


As You Are, I Am

by arnediadglanduath



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: But then she makes up for it, But we still love him, Carnivorous Man Eating Shrubbery, Crazy OCs, Eowyn Gets Mean, Feels, Gandalf is rather Grumpy, Gimli keeps catching them making out, I'm Sorry Arwen, M/M, Mpreg, No Angst, Pre-Slash to Slash, Romance, Slow Build, Some Blood and Gore in Later Chapters, Super Evil Antagonist, These two are adorable, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-22 04:28:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 52
Words: 165,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7419787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arnediadglanduath/pseuds/arnediadglanduath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div>
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    <a href="http://s1380.photobucket.com/user/LarcenysInsane/media/AL%20Title_zpsbc3zqqxc.jpg.html"></a>
    <br/>
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</div>"They say you cannot change Fate" I murmured, turning my head away. A soft breeze whistled over the high and forbidding walls. Somewhere, a bell tolled, like some distant and forgotten memory. Aragorn raised an eyebrow. "Well" he whispered, tilting my chin and reuniting our gaze. "Whoever "they" are...they are wrong."<p>A story herein where'st Aragorn and Legolas fall in love...the long way, and the (somewhat) happily ever after that follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notice:** As of January 2nd 2017, this fic will be being periodically edited for grammar, spelling, and punctuation.

 

**Preface**

My father raised me to listen more than speak, look no further than the gates of Amon Lanc, and to think of a dwarf like an orc with slightly more brains. It is within my humility to admit I failed him in the majority of these things. The degradation of Amon Lanc to Dul Gudur I could hardly help, I was little more than a child at the time. But I fear I have always spoken more than common elf royalty. As heir to the Woodland Realm; merriment was supposed to somehow be beyond me. As for dwarves...you know that story.

Despite many overworked and delirious theories-(like the speculation I simply popped into a silver cradle near Emyn-nu-Fuin with a bow in my arms)-I did have a mother. She died young-for an elf-and I do not think my father ever recovered. Though a good man in his own respects, Thranduil of the Woodland realm was oft blinded by memory of the world as it had been, and possessed little vision for change. Though stirred from the confines of his kingdom by the actions of Thorin and company, I do believe he would have allowed our people to sink into the stuff of Legend if it had not been for the cruelties of Annatar.

But I stray off the true aim of my story.

I spent my childhood under and in the shimmering boughs of Amon Lanc, I watched as the fantastical glory of my home was reduced to naught more than the lair of a Witch, and I have found that from the best can come worst...and from the least can come most.

When I was asked to play the part of Emissary to Rivendell in 2951, I had no idea my world was about to be pulled up by the roots. As they say; "step over a stream to find a waterfall." My name is Legolas, King of the Woodland Realm and Prince consort of Minas Tirith. This is my story.

_Lasta a gar-gul._


	2. Mina Glintha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> __
> 
>  
> 
> _Legolas goes to Rivendell. ___  
> 

I did not want to go to Rivendell.

This may seem strange. After all, most children chafe to get away from their sires. I had stood as a near-silent shadow as my brethren went out to battle the ever-growing forces of Sauron. I envied them, but at the same time I knew it was a futile combat. There was a solution, but it wasn't in blood or death. In some ways, I was quite content to stay home to ensure my father did not send any more of our people out to die. The King of The Woodland Realm was wont to be hasty, especially when it came to the protection of our people. When Annatar revealed his true motives, there was naught on earth to stop my father seeking vengeance, especially after the Battle Under The Trees, but that would come later. In any case, after much grousing and pleading on my part, I dragged my unwilling feet to Rivendell with perhaps a tad more belligerence than was acceptable and a mite less care than was needed.

The roads between Mirkwood and Imladris were safer, but still perilous to the fresh-faced traveller. I might have fared better if I had been more watchful. The High Pass was littered with goblins eager for meat or money, I do not think it mattered. I was forced to leave one looking rather like a porcupine. I was previously accosted in the Vales of Anduin, and near made a spider's lunch 'afore I had even left Mirkwood. This was due to a poorly premeditated nap. Needless to say, I arrived in Rivendell rather worse for wear but with no one to blame but myself. Elrond received me with his usual grace, though I did note that he appeared more distracted than when I had last seen him in Amon Lanc. I did not ask and he did not offer me any explanation. Imladris has always stunned me with its beauty; both glittering and incandescent as well as indefinitely powerful. From the sunspot-ridden gardens and vales, to the arching carvestone of the Last Homely House, to the roaring waterfalls rushing in the valley….ever-moving, ever-synchronized by time.

I was received graciously at the gate and hurried to meet Elrond. We exchanged traditional greetings and he ushered me into the Council Room and urged me to sit down. A cheerful attendant brought us food and drink before bowing herself out of the room. Almost instantly, Elrond ceased his steady stream of pleasantries and took a world-weary sip of wine. This was so out of character, and so indescribably un-elvish I nearly commented on it. Thankfully, the Lord of Imladris spared me by offering his own explanation.

"I have been abroad of late" he said, sitting back in his chair. Then he frowned, as if to correct himself. "No, that's not right. My Sight has been abroad of late, not as oft as sometimes, but the shadows weigh upon me more heavily."

"I guess that you speak of Annatar" I replied, toying with the scrollwork on the wooden table. "In which case, his Shadow lies heavily upon us all. Yet I see a weariness in you that has little to do with the spread of Darkness."

It was a bold statement, to be sure. Despite what many may think, we elves are not spared the woes of vanity. Elrond's eyes tightened almost imperceptibly as he searched my face for any sign of mockery. I held his gaze steadily and after a moment he sighed and looked away.

"I forget you are not so young any more, Legolas. You see what many have not. Just yesterday, a woman by the name of Gilraen came to my gates, seeking refuge for herself and her son."

I bit my lip, the name resonating somewhere familiar in my deep study of Arda's history.

"Gilraen...Gilraen the Fair?"

Elrond nodded grimly.

"But….then where is the Chieftain?"

"Arathorn son of Arador was slain by orc arrows."

 _"Ai Elbereth"_ I breathed, digesting this information. "There was rumor of ill fate in the Caverns but I-"

"-There is ill fate everywhere" Elrond interrupted tiredly. "The sooner you learn this, the sooner you will be wiser."

"My father believes that Arathorn was the true heir of Gondor" I replied, picking up a grape but finding little desire to eat it. "If he is dead and he is right, the boy will be in great danger."

Elrond stood and swept over to one of the many balconies overlooking the Vale. I noted that his brow furrowed much like my father's when he debated the consequences of disclosing delicate information to an 'elfling'.

"If it is only suspicion...then that is all it shall be" he hedged, sweeping an errant sleeve away from the spray of the waterfalls.

"You do not believe it is, and neither does Adar" I said wryly. "Rare would the day be that you both are wrong."

Elrond sighed, his expression taking on one of defeat.

"We...<i>I</i>...have decided to oversee the upbringing of the boy myself."

"What of Gilraen?"

"She agreed, though if she had her way I do not think they would stay much longer. Gilraen is not well in spirit, she grieves a husband she never bid farewell. Much like an elf, she desires the freedom outside of walls, how could she not living among the Dunedain?" He sighed. "But if the boy is to one day reign in Gondor there are things he must be taught that neither his mother nor the other Rangers can teach him. That, at the very least Gilraen knows."

"Does the youngling know?"

Elrond glanced sharply at me.

"Of his heritage? No. And it must remain that way. I do not speak ill of children when I say they are prone to keep no secrets. If such a truth were to fall into the wrong hands…." he trailed off and said no more, there was no need.

"My father would be loathe not to know of this" I murmured after several minutes of silence, my eyes downcast.

"Tell him" Elrond replied, still gazing into the Vale. "But make sure he knows not to speak of it to another."

We spoke little of serious affairs after that, exchanging only happy news of our homes over the meal and retiring from the Council Room to walk in the gardens at twilight. It was pleasant-if not achingly brief-to converse with such an admired and respected member of my kin. I did not get such a chance again for a long while, and the memory is dear to me.

"Tell me" Elrond asked after a time. "You have come for a reason, what is it that Thranduil wishes to say or know?"

We had come back to the main hall...where the Fellowship would meet many years afterward, though I did not know it at the time. The skitter of leaves across those flagstones was as ominous then as it was the day that Frodo was named Ringbearer. Resting my hand upon the rough-hewn dais, I gathered my thoughts.

"My father...is prone to situational overreaction."

"This I know" Elrond replied, and I did not miss the musical vein of humor in his tone. I continued;

"Long has it been that the elves of Mirkwood have defended our home. My father has been a good-if not occasionally hard-ruler." I took a deep breath. "We all know of Annatar's gathering storm in his dark kingdom, it has been far too long…" I trailed off helplessly.

"Your father wants to know the _how, why,_ and _when?"_ Elrond observed sagely. I nodded silently. The elder halfling sat down on the dais, his gaze somewhere I could not fathom. "It is true that the Mirror grows dark" he acceded. "Both here and in Lothlorien. Ever have Annatar and Melkor strove against the goodness of Iluvatar. I have no doubt we should expect a turn of the tides, and soon. But I cannot say how or when, the why is obvious."

Against my will, I felt myself pale.

"You speak ill news" I murmured. "Ill and unclear, more's the worse."

"I'm sorry I cannot provide you with more" the Lord of Imladris remarked. "I wondered why Thranduil would send his only son across the Misty Mountains, and now I am afraid I must disappoint him."

I had no answer for him, other than to reassure him that my father knew the frustrations of an unclear future, and that there was no shame in not knowing something. With my departure date unclear, I settled down in one of the little white rooms for the night with a book and a small cup of lauredhel, possessing little thought but rest and the day to come.

* * *

 

In Mirkwood, I was too often woken by a harassed-looking council member whose only goal seemed to be dressing me in the most uncomfortable garb possible, sitting me down- _"back straight, chin high!"_ -next to my father as he went about his government for the day, and making me as discomfited as was necessary. When I came of age for combat training, I was knocked out of the trees by early-rising seniors who would prefer their lesser fellows wake up in midair rather than in a cloak. In Mirkwood, status doesn't particularly matter when it comes to military, everyone is killing the same thing. And-of course-on the road I was woken by greedy, hungry eyes and ravenous spiders the size of catapults. It wasn't that I was particularly incompetent-I am one of the best marksmen ever recorded-it was the simple fact that I did make mistakes like anyone else. Too oft are elves spoken of as ethereal beings shimmering on the edge of human memory like misguided phantoms. It is true that we do not age, have super-human reflexes, and little need to sleep. Adversely, I have seen a royal company of Mirkwood elves drink themselves silly, my father has tripped in my presence perhaps twice, I once caught an elder member of the community sleeping in a hot spring, and there was a peculiar elf of the royal committee that belched loudly whenever someone mentioned athealas. He was removed rather quickly but it still does good to mention we are not in any way perfect.

In Ithilien, I woke up mid-morning and wandered about until I came across Elrohir in the cheese cellars. I had met the sons of Elrond only once, when an unknown sickness began to affect the trees in Mirkwood. They were master healers and well-versed in deep lore pertaining to Herbology and rejuvenation. By my knowledge, neither of them had married...their love of learning far surpassing need for companionship. Both of them were jovial and good-spirited, possessing an almost irresistible aura of positivism.

"Well met, Legolas."

I smiled as he kissed my cheeks and stepped back.

"Well met Elrohir" I nodded to the round of cheese in the healer's hand. "An odd time to partake isn't it? Especially in such a large amount."

Elrohir looked confused for a moment; then laughed merrily as comprehension dawned upon him.

"Oh, this isn't for me it's for Estel!"

I frowned.

"Estel?"

"My foster brother" he replied, tucking the wheel under an arm and leaning against a precarious stack of redwyn.

"Gilraen's son?"

Elrohir nodded.

"You know young ones. Always wanting to eat at strange times and always wanting to eat strange things." He beckoned me out of the cellar and into the hallway. "Come" he said, putting a hand on the ivory staircase leading back into the main house. "You can meet him if you like."

Having no intention of leaving that day and no word from Elrond, I saw no reason to disagree. Following him over the open space overhung by carven canopies and overshadowing at least six different waterfalls, we came to the apex-curve of the house that followed the steep rock face with particular stringency. Though slightly tiered the majority of The Last Homely House rested under singular roofs with leaf-like gables. It was very much like a grandiose cottage.

"Elladan is watching over Estel while Gilraen takes time to grieve." Elrohir said idly, though I detected a vein of hesitancy in his voice. "He had nursemaids, being shunted about isn't new to him."

The lighthearted tone of Elrohir's speech wasn't deceiving enough for me not to see through it. From what I had gleaned, Gilraen wasn't present much at all and it was not commonplace for her to be so indisposed to her son. We had arrived in front of an enclosed garden. Thinly pillard archways ran identically 'round the perimeter, giving way to green grass and a bench with a fountain shaped like a fish encircled with moon-colored flagstones. I particularly remember that the air was breezy, warm, and dry. Elladan sat on the bench with his back to me, his arm around a head of soft brown waves. Hearing our approach, Elrohir's twin stood with a smile, coming forth to greet me and roust with his brother. While the two sported, I made my way around them to kneel next to the bench where the little boy sat watching forlornly.

"Hello Estel" I said softly. "My name is Legolas, it is very good to meet you." Bright grey eyes met mine, and I caught a thousand questions. _"I know your name....but **who** are you? Why are you here? Can I trust you? Where is my father? Where is my mother? Will you be my friend?"_ I took a deep breath as an overwhelming pity flooded my soul. "I am very sorry for your loss."

A flash of resentment flickered across his face, as if I had reminded him of something best left forgotten

"Why's your hair yellow?" Estel blurted.

I laughed.

"Because my father is Sindarin."

"What's that?"

"An elf from a different family."

"Why?"

"I don't know, young one."

Estel looked shocked at the fact that an adult might not know something. I was sorely tempted to laugh but did not. After a few minutes of quiet informational digestion in which he sat very still, Estel sprang to life as if stung.

"Want to play?"

Having failed to receive an invitation such as that for near four thousand and nine-hundred forty years, I was rather at a loss of what to do. In Amon Lanc, the few young companions I had and I were allowed to roam wherever we wished. The poor child's expression was so earnest I could hardly refuse, but I did not know the rules of Imladris, or if Estel could simply go wherever he wanted. As it was, I mouthed helplessly as my newfound friend began to look a little more crestfallen by every second until Elrohir noted my indecision and came to my aid.

"Estel may go anywhere in Rivendell, provided he is accompanied by at least one adult." He smiled encouragingly when I continued to look uncertain. "Don't worry, I think you'll find children rather entertain themselves and those around them."

He was very right. To be honest, he was entirely too right. It turned out that Extel knew his way about Rivendell far better than I, and even with elvish senses I found it hard to keep pace. It was especially difficult when he would urge us to go to a specific destination and take off running in places I could not possibly duck down low enough or squeeze through. It made me question if he was not half-elfin. I was partially right-as it turned out-but that is lineage and history you already know.

While all of this cavorting was going on, the boy kept on a steady stream of questions that seemed to flow from one to the other without waiting for any kind of answer in particular. I must have answered a hundred different questions all pertaining to different subjects.

Elfings are rare, as the act of creating them is not often-(unless you count Feanor and Nernadel...and myself)-you must understand that with limitless lifespan we are not so pressed for pleasure or recreation as humans. Young ones are a blessing from Iluvatar, and never to be taken for granted or conceived without years of forethought.

"Can we be friends?"

Standing once more in the little courtyard where the Fellowship was formed, I am struck almost painfully by my ignorance of its importance. Estel sat on the mid-height dais, nibbling on the round of cheese that was far too big for him. He smiled in earnest as he asked and my heart went out to him. Kneeling by the future heir of Gondor who had no more knowledge of his heritage than the rise of Annatar was a strange thing. And yet, as angelic fingers offered to share the cheese with me I was helpless to agree.

"Yes, Estel, _me van mellyn..."_

"We are friends."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title Translation**  
>  _Mina Glintha_ -First Glance
> 
>   **General Translations**  
>  _"mi van mellyn"_ -we are friends
> 
> Legolas said "I don't know" to Estel's question about him being Sindarin. It was more of an "I don't want to explain elf lineage in a long and tedious plot-deviating diatribe...so "I don't know"


	3. Mi Van Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Of Friendship and Farewells_

It seemed that wherever I went, Estel followed.

Elrond did not call for me that day, and I was consequentially at the mercy of the boy and his (much) elder brothers. Despite the twins' boisterousness and Estel's energy, I enjoyed myself thoroughly. All of them were well-versed in elvish and Estel made a point of showing it off in my presence. After a tour around Rivendell, he fell asleep next to his plate at dinner, much to everyone's amusement. Elrohir took him back to Gilraen, who was not in attendance.

It was during this meal that I first met Arwen. I'd been sitting aside Elrohir and a dark-haired elf who was chatting away at her friend so happily I did not get to ask her name. When Estel collapsed into the table, Arwen vacated the twin's empty seat. The daughter of Elrond ever holds a special place in my heart. If not for her kindness, for the mercy she showed me years later. At that moment, her beauty held me in such awe I was at a loss for polite words.

 _"Mae Govvannen, Laeglas_ " she said softly. "My father told me of your arrival, but I'm afraid that I was otherwise preoccupied until now."

 _"Êl síla erin lû e-govaned vîn"_  I replied automatically. "It is good to meet you."

"And you. Tell me, what brings you to Imladris?"

It was easy to talk to her. Truly, it was as if we had been friends for years. She too knew of and felt the rising shadow of Sauron, though we did not speak of it long. Verily, she had been raised as an elf-maiden should and more. I perceived a wisdom in her that I had seen in few others at the time. Elrond glanced down the table every once in a while, and it seemed hope kindled in his eyes where none had been before. Arwen spoke of the happenings in Mirkwood and asked after my father.

"I hear that you live in caves, like dwarves."

"We are nothing like dwarves" I bristled. "And they live in mountains."

My recalcitrance didn't seem to bother her in the least, though she did graciously ask my forgiveness.

"Estel very much likes you" she remarked, taking a leaf of lettuce off Elrohir's plate. "I've never seen him take to anyone so quickly."

"He's a very sweet child" I agreed. "I feel sorry for him."

"Don't" she said, eyes twinkling. "I think he feels rather badly for you. Just now I heard him asking Elrohir to _'make sure Legolas the yellow-headed elf wasn't feeling out of place.'"_   I flushed.

"I don't think he feels badly here" I said carefully. "I just wonder at..." I hesitated, glancing towards Elrond, who was preoccupied. "I sometimes wonder where Gilraen is. I have not seen her once in my entire visit."

Arwen's eyelids lowered.

"I have somewhat of a healer's touch" she said quietly, also glancing at her father. "I fear this is only the beginning of Gilraen's...absence. Do not take me wrongly, she loves her son, but her mind is...overcome with grief. I don't think she will ever fully recover. Not even for Estel."

"What will be done?" I asked, horrified at the mere thought of a mother detaching from her child.

"Adar is a good man" Arwen said affectionately. "He will look after him, do not worry. It is sorry that Gilraen cannot pull herself from her grief, but even the best beings on earth have quailed under the shadow of loss."

"Estel is in bed" came Elrohir's voice. "After much ado about nothing." The normally merry-faced elf grasped the back of his former chair and gave his sibling a look of mock-consternation. Arwen smiled cheekily and put a hand over mind in jest.

"Now, brother. You cannot keep our guest all to yourself you know."

"Oh I know, but you musn't push yourself on him either."

Arwen laughed and the evening went on pleasantly until Elrond rose, dismissing the rest of the party automatically. Arwen retired to spend time with her father and the twins invited me to a game of dice that I failed spectacularly. Once the two brothers tired of watching me lose, I was dragged to a midnight poetry reading that was absolutely sensational. The literary festivities lasted until dawn, and by that time Estel had clambered out of his bed to sit in my lap and eat breakfast.

* * *

 

 _"Laeglas!_   _Ti_ _r-nin_! Watch me dive!"

Looking up from the text I was perusing pertaining to Elrond's youthful ventures-(kindly lent to me by Elladan)-I smiled and nodded as Estel clung to a harried looking Elrohir as they splashed about in the waters of the Ford. In the three days since I arrived the boy was already referring to the Twins as 'brothers'. I had caught him tugging Elrond's robe mid-morning saying _'Adar'_ with a peculiar look on his face that told me it was the first time he had used such a phrase on the revered elf and was curious to see his reaction. Arwen was merely 'Arwen.' Evidently both 'sister' and _'muinthelnin'_ had been distasteful to him after several uses. I myself was privileged with the continued use of my name, along with _'penbain', 'glantiri',_ and other misconstrued Sindarin phrases.

In truth, I had been delaying my departure from Imladris as much as possible. In the Caverns, my life consisted of training, politics, and battle. Adar was not one to promote undue amounts of leisure and the merriment we did happen to enjoy consisted of midnight revels under the myopic Mirkwood pines. My place was that of perimeter guard; keeping out spiders and the worse. I cannot remember a time I was permitted to join the festivities. You must think my father a cruel man at this point. In the stirrings at the apex of my youth I was like-minded. I do not think I would have half the self-discipline I possess if it weren't for my stringent upbringing.

Still, I was loathe to abandon the gravid peace of Rivendell for the grand but uptight and mistrustful caverns of my father. Elrond had not approached me with any news and Arwen assured me that word would come if anything changed.

"You know you must go soon" she said gently, joining me to watch Estel and Elrohir swim. I looked at her, at the soft midnight falls of her hair and the porcelain fullness of her face. My heart ached; for it was the closest to having a mother I'd ever been...knowing Arwen. She smiled and took my hand. "We will meet again, Greenleaf, I am sure of it."

"It was truly happy to meet you, my lady" I replied.

 _"Savo 'lass lalaith ollo vae"_ she countered. "You must tell Estel now."

It was not easy to say goodbye to Gilraen's son. Though I did not ever meet her, I was and am still grateful to her for bringing me close to Estel. At first, he thought I jested and merely laughed. We stood at the gate, surrounded by the house of Elrond. The boy's face fell as he realized I did not toy with him.

"Why?" he asked, his face contorted in a mask of bravery that contrasted sharply with the tears in his eyes.

"I must go home to my Ada" I said softly, kneeling to his height and stroking his curls.

"Can I go with you?"

"No, little one" Arwen cut in. "Legolas' journey is long and dangerous."

"I'm brave" Estel snapped.

"Yes" I replied soothingly. "And someday perhaps you shall see my home. But I travel light and on foot. I do not stop to eat or rest, it is a hard journey and I cannot watch you. Moreover, I am not your Adar, and I do not think Elrond wishes you to go with me."

"Elrond is not my Ada" the boy countered in a rare show of stubbornness. "I am my own."

"As we all are" I agreed, looking into his eyes. "But your mother will miss you, and I think Elrond very much views you as his own."

There were things that passed between us in those moments we looked at each other. There was the singular and unspoken fact that both Estel and I knew that Gilraen was little likely to protest if I should take her son. Also, there was the inevitable truth that Estel knew I was the son of a King and, having been the son of a very great man, knew what duties awaited me and how preoccupied I was going to be once I left. Finally, Estel looked to me as his first true friend since being in Rivendel. Elrohir and Elladan were his brothers to be sure, but I was his friend.

"You hate me" Estel sobbed.

" _Ai_ no!" I breathed, stricken. "I will come back" I added desperately, not sure if it was true.

_"Mi van me?"_

"I promise" I said weakly, feeling a liar as I said it.

Estel hugged me then, and left me feeling cruel and desperate. Arwen kissed my cheeks, having already said farewell and Elrond came forward to reassure me and bless my journey. Elladan and Elrohir escorted me up the winding path back onto the road. It was there that they bade me an exuberant and tearful farewell. I am not ashamed to say I wept a bit myself.

They then vanished back into the Valley and I was left alone; looking towards the Misty Mountains with my heart heavy and my soul left somewhere behind, with a little boy who did not know that someday he would be king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title Translation:**  
>  _"Mi van me?"_ -Do you promise?
> 
>  
> 
> **General Translations:**
> 
>  
> 
>  _"Mae Govvannen"_ -Well met.
> 
>  _"Adar/Ada"_ -my father/roughly-"father."
> 
>  _"Muinthelnin"_ -my sister.
> 
>  _"penbain"_ -roughly "beautiful one."
> 
>  _"glantiri_ -bright eyes
> 
>  _"savo 'lass a lalaith ollo vae"_ -have joy and laughter until we next meet


	4. Inlhand Mîn Hinhent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _A Look Into Life In The Caverns_

I have entered my father's halls with a sense of sullenness, anger, and admonition. Dragging my feet to the base of the stone dais where Thranduil sat, I was accosted with a feeling of dread. It had not so much to do with Adar as it had to do with the second step down from him, where I usually sat. In my time returning home I had balked at the thought of returning to that spot. Head in hand...a scratchy silk robe, or the tough mithril armor in times of war. Ever Thranduil's silent and ominous shadow...ever the pretty-faced elf-prince who sat as if made of stone.

 _"Na vedui"_ Adar breathed, standing and coming to greet me. _"Man agoreg,_ Legolas? What did you do? Lose yourself in Imladris? You need to be quicker with these things."

Belaying his stern tone, his fingers briefly touched my face and hair in a fashion I had not seen since my childhood. I knew he had worried after me and forgave him his anger.

 _"Le suilon,_ Adar" I murmured, taking his hands as was customary. "The Lord Elrond sends his regards and Blessing. Truly, I did not mean to delay for so long, I have not the news you seek but perhaps some comfort and other less-pressing information."

My father's eyes searched mine for a minute-eyes I had once thought could see my very soul-and then landed on the motionless Guard at the foot of his throne.

_"An ngell nin ego."_

He then turned and swept back up the stairs to his antlered throne, any pretense of affection gone as if it had never been. I remained at the base with my hands behind my back whilst the guard left the hall swiftly and silently. Once we were alone, I recounted my ventures, careful not to gloss over any details. Thranduil was silent until I had finished, his gaze focused on my face-searching for any sign of deceit. He needn't have bothered. I'd given up lying to him at the age of thirteen. He was silent for a while afterwards, leaving me to contemplate the soft drip of moisture in the dark recesses of the cavern.

 _"Agorel vae, ionneg"_ he praised, surprising me. "I know this was your first time travelling alone, and an emissary at that. You presented our Name honorably. _Guren glassuj."_

Unbalanced by his near-exuberant-for-Thranduil praise and overcome with emotion, I faltered.

"Only for you Ada" I said eagerly and with little formality. "Adar...do you think I could go there again?"

Father frowned, leaning back in his chair.

"Why?"

Encouraged further by his non-immediate refusal, I plunged on.

"There is so much to learn there. And everyone was so good to me, especially Estel and Arwen. I enjoyed the journey as well, perilous though it was."

For a moment, it seemed as if a wistful shadow passed over my Father's face. A shadow that understood and shared my adventurous emotions. But soon that faint glimpse into my Adar's soul was gone, and replaced by a look of mild indignation.

"And you do no think you could learn as much from me or our people?"

"We don't have a library" I pointed out, almost instantly regretting it.

"So we are of lesser ilk than the elves of Imladris?" Thranduil growled.

"No!" I said desperately. " _Ai Ada_! Our people live in trees! We only use these caves because we are royalty. You know we're of a wilder ilk than those of Rivendell or Lothlorien, and there is naught wrong with that. But can you truly deny me the pleasures of book-learning and knowledge of the deeps?"

"You are masterfully skilled in etiquette, elvenlore, the History of Middle Earth, combat, and all matter of politics. What more could you possibly learn in Rivendell? Despite our people being misconstrued as...'fey'" he spat the final word out akin to a curse.

"I enjoyed myself Adar" I replied desperately, abandoning all pretenses of learning. "I promised Estel I would come back! Cannot you allow me the leisure of travel for simple social pleasure? I won't go often, maybe once a year-"

 _"-Daro!"_ Thranduil snapped. "Enough, Greenleaf. I've not seen you beg so pitifully since you were but young. Go. I will think on it."

 _"Goheno-nin_ Adar" I said miserably.

"Truly, my son, I will consider your words" Thrandul said gently. I looked wanly at him through the fall of my hair and he smiled fondly, as if caught in a memory. "Think you that I have forgotten the wonders of travel and kingship? Smile; _Gellon ned i galar i chent gîn ned i gladhog._ Gi melen. Now go."

My soul ached to argue, but so rare and touching were his words I had not the heart. Instead, I went to find dinner and seek a way of writing to Arwen.

After all, if a child does not test his boundaries, he will not know any at all.

* * *

Months went by without any word from Rivendell. I did get a letter from Arwen, informing me that she had reestablished in Lothlorien, to continue her education. This saddened me, as it seemed that the tight-knit family I had met was dispersing across all of Middle Earth. A gross exaggeration, and in part due to the youthful resistance to change in my mind, but it did not help me in the least. After the aforementioned letter, she did not write to me nor I to her. Lothlorien's location was evermore threatened, and a barrage of couriers in and out of sacred ground did the Lady Galadriel no good at all. Arwen did not have to tell me, I knew all too well the dangers of exposing the Dwimordene. I spent my days harrying the couriers for news and going about my usual duties. News did come eventually, though it was not necessarily good. I remember that many years had passed and I had given up hope of ever returning to Rivendell. My thoughts had been forced elsewhere in any case, towards the ever-growing forces of Sauron and the subsequently ever-growing worry of my father. Long ago, I had accepted the fact that I would someday resign myself to kingship. Whether when Thranduil tired of it, or when he took to the Sea, I did not know at the time. Verily, I considered it a dull job from my observations. Nothing inside me leaped at the thought of listening to the woes of citizenry day in and day out.

I was standing outside the Caverns overseeing a delivery of apples and desperately bored, when a courier bearing the Imladris colors came riding into the sparse space. His horse was lathered and the look on his face spoke only of grim tidings. Practically throwing the chart I'd been ticking off at an attendant, I rushed to meet him without calling for the guards.

_"Erain Thranduil?"_

"No" I said quickly. "His son, Legolas. Adar is in the Throneroom."

The messenger seemed mildly put off by my informal address of the Elvenking but recovered quickly.

"The tidings I bear are for King Thranduil only" he replied, allowing a note of apology to seep into his tone. "Would you be so good as to lead me to him?"

I nodded and called for the stable master to take his steed, whilst the Guard rushed forward to check him for concealed weapons. I earned a few disparaging looks for rushing out with no accompaniment, but I did not care.

My father was busy listening to an Elderly emissary grouse at him, and had been since the dwarf arrived that morning. It wasn't customary for Ada to receive dwarfkind, but something about it was an exception and I didn't pry. Leaving the messenger at the edge of the Hall, I approached the throne and bowed respectfully, ignoring the indignant look that the emissary gave me for interrupting him mid-tirade.

 _"Hraine apsene_ , Adar. There is an emissary from Rivendell wishing to speak with you. Urgent news it seems."

 _"La fael_ ; Legolas" Thrandual said wearily. "Forgive me Master Dwarf, perhaps we can continue our conversation later." He gestured at me. "My son would be happy to find you a meal and mayhap a brief rest to pass the time."

The old dwarf looked affronted at being sent off so quickly, but recovered good spirits when Adar mentioned food and a bed. I myself was outraged at my father for dismissing me from something he knew meant so much to me in such a casual manner. A part of me wanted to shout at him. Instead, I settled for a cutting-and unbelievably immature-rebuttal.

 _"Nin gwerianneg"_ I said scathingly, and Thranduil's eyebrows disappeared into his forehead. "Come with me, Master Dwarf" I added pleasantly, proffering my arm as an added insult.

Without looking back, I led the elderly individual out of the hall, ignoring the incredulous-looking courier at the entrance. The kitchens were at the far end of the caverns. I left the dwarf with an attendant before exiting the caves to fire arrows at a practice dummy to expend some of my anger. It wasn't long before my exertions carried me into the evening and well into Twilight. I was used to such disappointments from Adar, but this had hit me particularly hard. Perhaps because I had been so bored of late...I don't know. Footsteps sounded behind about an hour after the dinner bell. Ignoring them, I fitted another arrow to my bow and drew back. A hand on my shoulder caused me to release oversoon, and the head of the arrow embedded itself an eighth of an inch dead center, by which time I had my daggers drawn and my arms oscillating to meet with the blade of...my father. Upon recognition, I dropped my guard and threw my weapons down in childish disgust.

"Greenleaf" Thranduil sighed, sheathing his own sword and gathering up my fallen arms. "Are you truly so angry with me?"

I turned my face to the side, glowering resolutely at the the rocky soil underneath us. When he did not speak for some time, I relented slightly.

"You promised" I muttered tightly.

"I promised you I would think on it" he reminded me sharply. "In any case, that emissary is a very important individual, as I am sure you know. Dismissing him with a common servant would have been a severe insult. Moreover, the courier's message was for my ears only." He touched the aforementioned appendages in a rare show of humor. "T'would be shameful to disregard Elrond's request simply because you are overeager."

"I don't understand why I'm disregarded in such affairs, if I'm to rule I deserve to know."

My father ran a hand over his brow, a sigh he was impatient but attempting to be tolerant.

"I will tell you what was said Greenleaf, but you cannot allow the woes of etiquette to affect you so." Mollified, and slightly ashamed, I let him lead me back into the caverns and into his study. "Come sit by the fire' Thranduil said, taking a seat himself. "Sauron's power grows ever stronger" he continued when I had seated myself. "Elrond says that Mithrandir claims his power has returned to our Greenwood."

I looked at him in horror.

"As it was before?"

"Dul Guldur is darkened once more" Adar said grimly. "I have been inattentive."

"Does Elrond know what to do?" I breathed.

"Mithrandir and Radagast will be looking into it" the Elvenking replied, and I noted the irritation in his voice. "As of now, Gandalf is preoccupied with...urgent matters."

"What could possibly be more urgent than the rise of Annatar?"I asked incredulously.

"I do not know. The courier could tell me very little. Something about 'Shire' and 'Hobbits.'"

Thranduil trailed off, though I caught _'Dwarves', 'Mountain'_ and _'Treasure.'_ Needless to say, I was more than a little bewildered, and when my father dismissed me I nearly felt more unsatisfied than when the courier arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Elvish in this chapter. Something I somewhat regret.
> 
>  **Title Translation**  
>  Inlhand Mîn Hinhent -the space between our eyes *cringes* EXTREMELY ROUGH TRANSLATION
> 
>   **General Translations**  
>  na vedui!-at last!
> 
> man agoreg-what did you do?
> 
> an ngell nin ego-please be gone (very rough translation)
> 
> agor eg vae, ionneg-you did well, my son
> 
> guren glassuj-thank you, from my heart
> 
> Daro!-stop/enough!
> 
> Goheno nin-I'm sorry
> 
> Gellon ned i galar i chent gîn ned i gladhog- I love to see your eyes shine when you laugh
> 
> gi mellen- I love you
> 
> erain-King (roughly, used as a form for someone lording over an area)
> 
> Hrein apsene-this was a lost translation, but it wildly means "excuse me, pardon me."
> 
> La fael-also a lost translation, roughly 'alright, very well'
> 
> Nin gweri anneg-you have betrayed me
> 
> Ego mibo orch-go kiss an orc!


	5. Le Nathlam Hí

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Aragorn and Legolas meet once again._

Most of you are aware of what happened after that. Despite my misgivings on the whole thing, I followed my father to the Mountain as Faithfully as possible, and in later days began to take a hand in the politics of Mirkwood. It wasn't until late evening-March 21st of 3018 in fact-that anything changed for me personally. I was scouting the edges of Mirkwood-more to get away from Thranduil than anything-when a commotion ahead of me drew my interest.

I had just finished dispatching a large network of spiders. Contrary to popular belief, they can be rather reasonable, especially when you take the time to sit down and discuss the niceties of webmaking. Of course, there are always a few bad eggs but they're just as badly tolerated by their kind as any miscreant outsider. I had talked them into leaving, but I was almost sure they would return. Truly, there were some beautiful oaks in that section of the forest; ones I myself would be loathe to relinquish. The noise in question was so horrendous, it was plain that whatever was making it did not care whether someone heard it or not. I deciphered-among the screechings, garglings, and guzzlings-a kind of broken dialect. The tongue of man in fact, but with such grammatical mishaps and third person self-references I almost immediately concluded whoever was speaking it was positively insane.

_"Nooo! We doesn't go to the caveses of nasstyyy elvseses-_ **Gollum!** _-Filthy human doesn't takes us to the tricksy elves!"_

Upon recovering from the deluge, I discerned a softer, much more lucid dialect under the cacophony. The voice was unmistakably male, though softly coarse. The impatience in it was clear, as was the thin hold of tolerance it had for whatever was shrieking so obnoxiously. Jumping into the boughs of an oak tree, I took to traversing the branches for the source of the sound. Considering the fact that both were rather overloud, positioning their location was neither difficult nor time consuming. Sitting in the 'V' of a not overlarge pine, I swatted a rogue branch out of the way to catch a closer glimpse. The scene before me might have made me laugh, if I wasn't so immediately fascinated. The individual I had heard speaking lucidly was indeed human and looking very worn out and irritated. He had dark hair that barely touched his shoulders, framing a handsome face with defined cheekbones and striking eyes that seemed vaguely familiar. His form was lithe and well weathered, indicating combat experience and some tracking expertise. He was pulling on a rough rope, which was tied around the torso of the other individual speaking so incoherently. At first glance I might have thought it a human, but further observation proved the creature far too small in stature. In truth I did not know what it was, or had been...before existence degraded it so.

 _"We won't go to the filthy elveseses!"_ it shrieked, and the man swore quietly.

And then, with an almighty tug and cackle of laughter, the creature pulled itself loose of its' captor and shot straight up my tree.

It was pure instinctual reflex that made me grab the rope. The thing was incredibly nimble, and what's more, desperate to escape. Even as the man below me stood in helpless shock, all but sure he had lost his charge, I struggled with it in the eves of the tree. Closer up, I confirmed my suspicions of its madness. Its eyes were empty globes of fixation, though at the time I couldn't guess as to what. It spat and cursed at me as I made my way down to the now-astonished looking human. Tying the screaming miscreant to a tree trunk, I came forward to extend my greetings.

 _"Mae Govannen_ , traveler" I said cheerfully. "Let me extend to you a formal welcome from Thranduil, the Woodland King, my name is-"

"-Legolas" the man finished, smiling wryly as I stared at him in shock.

"...How?"

The man chuckled and folded his arms, staring at me in something akin to consternation.

"I come from Rivendell" he replied, his voice tinged with amusement. "My name is Estel, son of Elrond."

"Estel!" I gasped, feeling a twinge of embarrassment. "You've grown so!"

"Yes, well, it's been a decade and so" he said wryly.

I felt guilt wash over me in a wave.

"I wanted to come" I murmured. "But..."

"Ada explained to me the worries and eccentricities of  _Erain Thranduil_ " Estel said sympathetically. "Truly, I don't blame you for heeding your father." His eyes slid towards the thing still screeching by the tree. "This is Gollum-or Smeagol-or rather what's left of him, though I doubt he'd tell you so. Mithrandir has asked me to request that Thranduil keep him under his care."

I looked doubtfully at the filthy being.

"What...what is he?"

"He was what is known as a Hobbit" Estel replied, bending to pick a stone from his shoe. "Unfortunately, his attachment to something quite evil has warped his mind in horrifying and-so I believe-irreparable ways."

"What might this Evil thing be?" I pressed. "And what is a...Hobbit?"

It was the answers to my questions that kept us occupied as we took turns dragging Gollum to the Caverns. Estel was rather a glorious storyteller, and his account of the One Ring resurfacing and his description of the looks and lifestyles of Hobbits kept me quite entertained.

"You can call me Aragorn if you like" he remarked lightly as we sat down by a stream to rest. "It's what everyone calls me now, except for the Hobbits, they call me Strider."

"Well you're rather leggy" I teased, giving a good yank on Gollum's rope. He threw me a bemused glance and rolled his eyes. "Aragorn's rather noble, don't you think?"

"Estel's rather soft" he complained.

"Fine _Aragorn_ " I replied, putting emphasis on the vowels. "I'll save your real name for special occasions."

"That is my real name!"

Maybe it seems strange; for the King of Men and the heir to the Woodland Realm to be dragging a maddened lunatic across Mirkwood and happily swapping tales. I didn't think anything of it at the time. Truly, I didn't even question Aragorn's identity. Grown and changed as he was, most men who knew his lineage more than likely would have questioned his claim of title. There was something in my soul that resonated deeply with what had once been a little boy, but was no longer. I didn't know, or I certainly didn't acknowledge it at the time, that our camaraderie came as easily as falling water, slipping across our lips and into the air with the sound of laughter and completion.

The guards looked positively horrified as I came strolling up to the entrance laughing merrily with-as far as they were concerned-a total stranger. One of them tackled Smeagol immediately, to which Aragorn gave very little protest. The other knocked an arrow and aimed it directly at the young man, to which I gave a great amount of protest.

" _Daro!_ My friends, this is Estel, son of Elrond in Rivendell. Show him the respect he deserves!"

The guards stopped their actions, looking scandalized. Aragorn was forced to ignore their apologies and subsequent greetings to run after Gollum; who had been accidentally set free upon my orders. This caused some degree of confusion, until I explained that the wretch was indeed to be detained upon the order of Mithrandir, but Aragorn was not a threat; merely a 'courier' of a very large and nasty package.

"You know, my name is Aragorn" he muttered stubbornly as Smeagol was led away to the dungeons.

"They wouldn't have known you by that name" I returned sharply.

"I'm so sorry" he muttered. "I'd have sent a note ahead but my coming upon Gollum was happenstance and I had little time to sort out the best course of action."

"Mellon, do not worry"I murmured. "My father has no qualms against guests, only the careless ways in which I greet them."

We chuckled amicably and sauntered to the entrance of the Caverns to speak with my father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title Translation**  
>  Le nathlam hí-You are Welcome Here
> 
>  **General Translations**  
>  Mae Govannen-Well met  
> Mellon-friend.  
> Daro!-Stop!


	6. I Cannot Follow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Aragorn Is Welcomed Into the Halls of The Woodland King_

I'd gotten all kinds of figurative heckling for joining the Dunedain. My mother didn't approve of my amorous pursuit of Arwen, and Elrond had placed a heavy requirement for her hand upon my shoulders. At the time, I considered all of it worth it. Blinded as I was by the new knowledge of my heritage and the destiny I thought I wanted to pursue, all else dimmed. I was angry at first, though it had more to do with the fact that everything I wanted could only be achieved with the thing I least wanted; Kingship. Few saw it from my point of view. After all, who doesn't want power and authority? But I never wanted more than to govern my own life. As a man, being denied such a thing was torture.

I have no qualms over my childhood in Imladris. My days consisted of basking in the quiet shadows of the Valley, receiving gentle tutelage from Elrond or my brothers. I won't say I wasn't disappointed to receive no letters from the Greenwood, but once Elrond revealed my heritage to me, I understood. Aside from my instruction in Ithilien, I traveled often with my brothers, and by myself.

There is much and very little I can say of my life in the Wild. I learned great amount, and perhaps lost some too. I came to love traveling and Hobbits. I also had the honor of knowing Gandalf. And, of course, I had the great privilege of being alongside my fellow rangers.

I don't know when I stopped thinking with the mind of a child and looked onward as a man. Really, it was only a matter of time and circumstance, as with anything else. I wasn't particularly surprised to often find myself standing at the edge of recklessness and abandon, only to have the sound and stoic reasoning of Isildur's parentage draw me back. But I digress, knowledge is always something we pursue, whether knowingly or not.

It would be an awful lie to say I didn't find my business with Gollum tiring. He was sneaky, slithery, and pretty much insufferable. I didn't dare rest with him in my charge; he was as likely to put my eyes out as he was to run, and I never kept him far from me. By the time I met Legolas in Mirkwood, I was rather fed up with the whole affair. In truth, I had been by the way of the Greenwood before, but time and haste dictated I could not stop to greet my childhood friend.

I'd never met Thranduil before, but upon seeing him, I could see where his son had gotten his striking features. Truly, if I'd not filled my head with thoughts of Arwen, he'd have rendered me speechless. The caves in which we met were breathtaking; carefully carven stone gave way to brilliant tapestries and soft niches with quietly burning torches. The ceilings arched and glittered, stalactites and stalagmites glistening softly; pathways of intricate workmanship wended their way into depths unknown. Every so often I'd catch a shiver of song or a whisper of laughter. The place seemed alive in a way that was nearly uncanny. I had spent my childhood among elves but this was different, the air felt wilder, unkempt and high spirited. The elves we did pass seemed to disappear as quickly as they had come. Legolas seemed to notice none of this, keeping a swift and steady step towards the throne room.

Thranduil observed our entry with a carefully neutral expression. His hand however, curled tightly on the rim of his chair. I vaguely remember hearing Legolas dismiss the guard, who disappeared just as quickly as everyone else seemed to. I was distinctly aware as we took seats on the stone dais next to Thranduil's chair. Legolas' bowed his head, peeking up at his Adar through long strands of golden hair while I sat upright, watching as Thranduil stood and bent to kiss my cheeks.

"Aragorn, son of Arathron; Estel, son of Elrond" he murmured. "How good it is to meet you at last, be welcome." He ran an indulgent hand over Legolas' head before going to sit again. "Tell me, young one, what brings you here to our Greenwood?"

"I have been tasked by Mithrandir to find and detain a thief of sorts" I began.

"You have already found him. That is not why you are here."

"I need a place to keep him" I said hesitantly. "I also need to get word to Mithrandir that I am here and have his desired charge."

"And what of Imladris or the Dwimordene?" Thranduil countered. "Surely either one would also be an ideal place."

"Neither of them have prisons" I pointed out, as respectfully as I could.

"Why not here, Ada?" Legolas interrupted.

The King of the Woodland realm threw his son an impatient glance.

"I ask this of you, young one, because you do not know me and you do not know my realm. You have a shadow of a memory of my son from when you were a child-"

"-You must forgive my father and his paranoia" Legolas cut in again, shocking me. "It comes with this dismal and dull territory, along with having little else to do."

There was a sudden and ringing silence in the caverns after that. I myself was practically writhing with embarrassment and discomfort. I had no desire to be in the same room as the quarreling father and son. At the same time, I felt partially responsible for Legolas' sudden resentful outburst. I'd filled his head with tales of my adventures and missions while he'd had none himself. I should have foreseen that his frustration would be paramount. Not knowing whether I should stay or leave, I sat rooted to the spot, staring resolutely at the floor. I remember noticing for the first time how dirty my boots were.

"Estel, I grant you leave to keep your charge here" Thranduil finally said in a voice so steely it could have cut mithril. "If you'll excuse us, I need to have a word with my son."

"Of course, thank you" I muttered, scrambling to get up.

I cast a glance at Legolas, who looked strangely cheerful. The steps leading down from the throne suddenly seemed overlong, but I made it. A pleasant elf led me to the doors by lantern, even as a silent battle of wills continued on as they closed behind us.  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I spent the night in a side chamber that rested along an expansive tunnel off the throne room. It was a half-crescent space, with a slab carved out of the rock-face for the mattress to rest on, and dark green tapestries hanging from bolts in the walls. There were no windows but a great fire and many lamps made up for the lack of light. My attendant brought in a bath-which I took gratefully-before pointing out the bell tassel should I need anything else during the night. He also brought parchment and a quill for writing, and an ink pot all without my asking. I composed a letter to Gandalf and set it on my dresser to send off in the morning.

A dinner of flat bread and a simple vegetable stew was brought to me near dusk along with the offer of a musical accompaniment. I refused the second and took the first, dining alone. I ventured outside to smoke my pipe, taking in the last rays of the setting sun. I surmised to ask a guardsmen, rather guardself, how they had fared in placing Smeagol. I came across a nights watch man venturing out to start his shift, he scowled when I mentioned my charge but spoke respectfully nevertheless.

"Your...friend seems to especially hate our kind" he mused. "Indeed, he seems to hate anything clean or beautiful. We've put him in our dirtiest cell; but he complains quite mightily still."

A soft whistle from the woods made him still, after which he begged my leave. I thanked him and made my way back to my room, where I decided offhand to write to Arwen. I had just finished waxing poetic on my account of finding Gollum in the Dead Marshes when the bell inside my door tinkled softly. I rose-checking the position of my sword-and crossed the small space to open the door. Dark eyes glinted humorously in the firelight as Legolas sailed past me with a tray on which two goblets glittered, along with a silver decanter.

"A good evening to you, friend" he said cheerfully, setting his cargo down atop the desk. "You know, we Woodland elves are quite fond of our spirits, I thought you might like to try some before you turn in." He cast a surreptitious glance around the room. "I hope you've found everything to your liking."

"Yes of course" I said, closing the door and drawing up a chair. "And I would be honored to try some of your wine."

"I'm sorry you had to see me so churlish" the elf continued, setting out the goblets. "I'm afraid I let me get the best of myself."

"I think we all chafe at the reigns when confined to the houses of our fathers"I replied, lifting the decanter.

"Is that why you joined the Rangers?" Legolas asked mildly, taking a sip. I did as well, it was very good.

"Perhaps" I answered. "But there's more to it than that."

Legolas eyed me shrewdly, before his gaze drifted to the unfinished letter on my table.

"Missing someone back home?"

"Something like that" I replied, suddenly uncomfortable. I didn't feel like discussing Arwen with him. To my horror, the fair-haired elf picked up the letter and began perusing it, his expression growing more and more bewildered by the moment.

_"'Sat under an undulating Gondorian Toadstool for half a day'?!"_ he exclaimed. "Chilblains?" He threw the papers down with an expression of hilarity. "If you're looking to impress someone, you might want to leave out getting your posterior stuck in an enchanted poison ivy patch."

I flushed.

"I like to give a detailed account" I muttered. "It's rude to read other people's letters."

"How did you manage to get away from the toadstool?" he asked curiously, picking up the parchment again. "They are carnivorous aren't they? And you don't mention anything about your escape."

"It did try to eat me" I admitted grudgingly. "It liked the smell of my pipe weed so well it let me go."

"And you thought that was less attractive than getting your rear-end trapped in a carnivorous weed?"

"It seemed anticlimactic" I snapped.

Legolas' face worked furiously for a few moments before he appeared to give up and began to howl with laughter. After a few seconds of half-hearted indignation, I joined him.

"Ah, Estel" he gasped wiping his eyes. "Whoever she is, she's a lucky lady."

"More like I'm the lucky one" I chuckled. "What about you?" I added.

"Me?" Legolas echoed, the smile slowly drifting from his face. He took an overlong sip of wine. "Why, I have a line of very pretty suitors every year, don't you know?" he said in a brittle voice. "I'm not free to marry whomever I wish like you are."

"None of us are truly free" I reminded him gently.

The firelight glittering off the goblets caught Legolas' eyes, making them shine iridescently.

"I suppose not" he replied, smiling wryly. "Still...wouldn't it be nice to just run away from it all?"

I grunted my assent and we were silent for a long while. After a time, Legolas asked after my father and we continued on into other veins of conversation. He told me of the politics involved in keeping the borders of the Greenwood intact, along with the habits of the neighboring towns and villages, though there were few. I shared more of my ventures abroad, careful to stick within story canon and not expound on the boundless spirit of adventuring, so my friend wouldn't become forlorn. As he was preparing to leave, Legolas turned to me, a contemplative look on his face.

"I suppose we can all choose to turn away forever at one point" he murmured. 

I smiled crookedly.

"You are the one who can decide to sail across the deeps to the eternity beyond" I reminded him gently.

"....I cannot."


	7. Of Time With The Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Legolas and Aragorn Are Reacquainted_

I stayed in Thranduil's home for a fortnight, waiting on some form of news from Gandalf. During my stay, I did my best to involve myself in the daily routine of the Mirkwood elves. I participated in patrols around the border, ever aware of the sense of growing darkness in the Wood. Once a week, the elves would make their way down to the Riverfolk, and then to a field surrounded by a belt of pines to pick berries. These were stored in the great cellars beneath the main halls and passageways of the caves. They were then sent by river to be used in the distilling process for their much coveted wine. I helped my attendant scrub the halls adjacent to the throneroom, despite his strong protests; and I made sure to leave my room in as little disarray as possible.

"We once had a dwarven emissary come in that made an awful mess of his rooms" Legolas had whispered conspiratorially, as we watched the staff turn over their shifts. "He left a whole chicken leg under his pillow and ran off with a bar of soap."

The fondest memories I have of my stay are the times I spent with the Greenwood's heir to the throne. We spent early mornings practicing archery next to the caves with a loaf of bread and an apple each. Legolas regaled his youthful ventures on the practice field while I shot one hapless arrow after the next.

"I once shot Adar in the foot" he said lazily as I tromped back from retrieving a wayward arrow.

"How did that go?" I asked bemusedly, knocking a stray leaf from the bow I was using.

"I'd never seen him jump so high before and not since."

Afternoons were spent on separate scouting missions or perusing the deeps of Mirkwod. Despite the dark and desperate stories I'd heard, I found myself developing a deep respect and melancholy affection for the place. I could see why Legolas often felt so trapped, but at the same time understood why he continued to stay. Each fleeting shadow had a tale and every rustle in the bushes was a tentative discovery. At night we sat up under the stars and watched the clouds obscure the moon. In the end, I grew restless to be off, thought I knew not where I ought to be going. Legolas sensed this and devised ever-more elaborate ways of keeping me entertained and happy. In truth, I had had so precious little of experience when it came to having my days planned out for me, every basic need was met without struggle. It reminded me of being a child in Rivendell, without a worry in the world. There was only the spirit of adventure and a watchful sense of safety.

"You're not doing it right" Legolas said crossly, folding his arms. "And don't grab her chelicerae like that, it makes them uncomfortable."

Seated atop a giant, hairy spider, with not even a saddle to keep me upright, I glared at him.

"Tell it I don't know what those are, and I haven't the faintest which way is up or down."

Legolas made a series of strange clicking noises to which the spider shook mightily and tossed me off its back. I hit the ground with a great explosion of dirt and saw stars.

"Its name is Ewinil and if you can't tell an abdomen from a prosoma she says you shouldn't be atop her."

"This was your idea!" I spluttered.

The faint sound of hoof beats gave us pause; Ewinil scuttled off into the darkness of the forest, to which I felt some sense of relief.

"Mirkwood scouts don't ride horses do they?" I asked softly.

Legolas shook his head, his lips in a thin line, bow drawn. He skirted to the left, behind a large fir and out of the view of the approaching rider. I drew my sword and stood in the center of the path, straining my eyes forward in the dim light. Eventually, a shape came into view out of the gloom and I tensed, readying myself for whatever was coming. There was a sense of apprehension as features were made clear, and it became apparent that it was not a horse but a small pony, which the owner was walking beside. I felt bewildered.

"Hail, Aragorn, son of Arathorn" came a gruff voice, one I instantly recognized. I sheathed my sword, stepping forward to greet the grey-shrouded figure. "You are a long ways from the Halls of Thranduil."

"Hail Gandalf"I replied. "What brings you here?"

The old wizard's eyes twinkled in merriment as Legolas stepped out from behind the fir.

"Why, your letter of course!" He exclaimed, pulling the offending piece of parchment from his cloak. "You have done what I asked and captured Smeagol. I intend to have a word with him, and then you and I shall be off."

I was ruminating over the fact that Gandalf intended to "have a word" with a creature that couldn't talk about himself in first person, and didn't catch the backend of the old wizard's statement. Legolas, however, did.

"Off?" he said sharply. "Off where?"

"Why, to the Shire of course!" Gandalf gave my friend a long considering glance. "And many greetings to you Legolas. How fares your father?"

We kept a steady stream of conversation going as we made our way to the halls of the Woodland king. Gandalf had a great many tales to tell, as he always did. I don't think I've ever met a better storyteller, but then again, I've never met anyone as wise. The day was mild, and none of us were in a mood to hurry. I couldn't help but notice that Legolas seemed to grow every quieter as the time wore on. I didn't think to ask of the cause, as I didn't want to pry.

We reached the caverns by mid-afternoon no worse for wear, though I couldn't help but wonder about lunch. We were received by two guardsmen who asked no questions of Gandalf but took his horse to be tended to in the stables. Thranduil greeted us outside the throneroom and we retired to a comfortable antechamber with a fire and chairs.

"Aragorn did not mention you would be coming here" Thranduil remarked as we sat down. "I must say, it has been too long Mithrandir, too long."

"I'm afraid I don't come for the pleasures of simple socialization" the old man said, setting his hat and staff down beside his chair. "A great darkness grows once more in Mordor, and it seeks something most precious, something that must be destroyed before it falls into the hands of Evil once more."

"The One Ring" Legolas chimed in sagely. "But what has all of this got to do with that screeching, slimy thing in the dungeons? We have all felt the strength of Annatar wax and wane only to wax once more, but surely the shadow of what was once perhaps a lucid creature with feelings cannot give you what you seek."

"It more than likely will not" Gandalf agreed. "Though you should not underestimate the power of little things in this world. I seek merely to help, perhaps heal Gollum. The Ring has driven him to madness. I would like to see if I cannot rectify his suffering, for as you know, Evil is not always born from whence it dwells."

There was silence for a while, as we all considered what Gandalf had said.

"And what is in the Shire?" I asked. "Why must we go there in such haste?"

"Hobbits are in the Shire!" Gandalf said, as if the very idea I would not know what he spoke of was preposterous. "And you know how very important Hobbits are."

"If I recall correctly" Thranduil muttered. "Hobbits can cause a good amount of trouble."

"Only if you're on their bad side" the old wizard said with a wink. "And, to be fair, you did lock his party in a dungeon."

"I still don't see why Aragorn has to go" Legolas said, sounding uncharacteristically cross for an elf.

"All will be made clear in good time, my boy" was the cheerful reply.

The conversation turned to the subject of Gandalf's adventures, and I found myself nodding slightly, with the fire warming my feet. Legolas appeared equally distracted, preferring to pour himself a glass of wine and stare mullishly at a tapestry in the back corner. Thranduil eventually turned the topic to the extensive political schemery of Mirkwood, during which the hour grew late and I grew exhausted. Still, I paid careful attention to each detail, mindful of the fact that I would need to be attentive in the future. Just when I was sure the conversation would last until dawn, Gandalf pronounced himself tired and he and Thranduil rose as one.

"I will go and see what I can do for Gollum" the old wizard commented, retrieving his staff. "And then I will retire." He glance at me. "Be prepared to leave at dawn Aragorn."

I hesitated and then nodded my assent and he swept out of the room, leaving me with Thranduil and Legolas.

"I want to thank you for your hospitality" I began. "In case I don't get to say good-bye tomorrow, I wish you both many blessings." I glanced at Legolas, whose face was carefully blank. "I will write" I promised.

"It was a pleasure to have you here" Thranduil said, clasping my shoulder. "It was also good to see Legolas spend some time with a comrade."

_"Na lu e-govaned vin"_ Legolas said softly. "I hope it will not be long."

"Until then" I agreed, feeling an uncharacteristic pang in my chest.

"I will walk you to your rooms" Legolas continued, surprising me. A flicker of something passed over Thranduil's face as we left. Was it...concern? "So..." my friend began as soon as we were out of earshot of the antechamber. "Of on another adventure hmm?"

"I don't know if you've noticed, but a lot of my _'adventuring'_ involves getting dragged around by Gandalf."

"You know that's not true" the elf chastised, touching my arm lightly. We turned to face each other as we came to my door. "You meant what you said, didn't you, when you said you would write?"

"Of course" I replied, raising an eyebrow. "I wouldn't miss a chance to tell you which poison ivy patch I'd gotten myself stuck in this time."

He chuckled. A part of me whispered that we had been overlong in our goodbye, as I lay in bed that night. It brought back the covert but lengthy glances, the subtle touches that just weren't subtle enough, and the sentimental comments that weren't really worth bringing up but were mentioned anyway. And then a stronger, more willful and sensible part of me squashed those thoughts into oblivion. Not because they were unhappy thoughts or that they made me sad, no. They made me question my intended path, and that would not suffice.

Such thoughts are dangers to us all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **General Translations**  
>  "Na lu e-govaned vin"-"Until we meet again."


	8. On The Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Aragorn departs Mirkwood alongside Gandalf The Grey_

I was more than a little perturbed that Legolas didn't rise to see us off. However, some part of me whispered that it was probably for the best. Gandalf was waiting for me at the entrance to the caverns, his pipe jutting out from under his lengthy beard. The morning was crisp and somewhat cool, though not unduly so, and we started off at a brisk pace. Thranduil had supplied us with lembas and a clear herbal drink that gave the traveler strength and cured menial, common things such as a chill or fever. We had enough so that we would no necessarily need to stop and stay at any inns along the way, though Gandalf had mentioned that we would likely stop in Bree. We met no resistance as we made our way out of Mirkwood, stopping only once to eat. Gandalf gave me the details of his plan during this time and I listened attentively.

"And how do you suppose one makes it to Mount Doom?" I murmured speculatively, absentmindedly tracing the pommel of my sword.

"With great caution, bravery, and a good amount of luck" Gandalf said sagely. "It is not a path to be taken lightly." He glanced at me. "I at least expect you to get the Ringbearer to Rivendell."

"I will do it" I vowed.

This was easier said than done of course, but I would find that out later. On the fifth day we encountered rain, quite a bit of it in fact. It came down so heavily we were hard-pressed to see the path, and Gandalf suggested that we stop and wait for it to at least lighten if not pass. We found some shelter under an outcropping of rock next to the road. It was about five feet across and bowed back into the interlocking roots of an old maple. Though the rain still seeped heavily down under the sheer rock face there was a small dry area at the back that we deemed to share. Gandalf immediately fell asleep, having apparently decided that I was perfectly qualified for a soggy watch. I spent a bit of time trying to determine if we had enough space for a fire but soon gave up. I then began to rummage about in my pack for my pipe and my hand nudged the inkwell stowed away in its waterproof depths. Drawing it out, I remembered that Legolas had bid me keep it, along with some parchment and two quills. Having nothing better to do, I set about composing a letter to Legolas:

_My good friend,_

_Already it has been a week since the time I spent with you and your kin in the Greenwood. It seems as if my time there was a fleeting dream, as it always is in the times I have spent with the Elven Folk. Gandalf has made it clear what he expects of me, and I would tell you if I weren't so certain he would know immediately. In time, I imagine things will become clearer to you as well. Right now I only know that we face a desperate and dark future, perhaps darker than we have ever faced before. The way seems uncertain; but we all must be valiant and look towards the greater good. There is much at stake and more to come, and yet we dare to have such a thing called "hope." Someday, when we are both Kings-Illuvatar permitting-I suppose we will look back on this and laugh. I don't know how you face it every day, the fact that someday you will sit where your Adar sits, and rule in his stead. I've only recently learned of my heritage and it still disturbs me, when I stop to think. I do not know if I was made to be the King of Men, but I digress. How do you fare? I've often thought of how dismal my archery will be, without you to correct me. Gandalf says I was meant for the sword, but at least some marksmanship is a good thing. My brothers are quite skilled in it, and I should be as well. I hope that Gollum hasn't given the guards too much trouble, Gandalf says he is quite consumed and may never recover, but only time will tell. Don't get soft on him, or he'll escape before you even know he has gone. I'll drop this letter off to a courier when we reach Rivendell. If time permits it, you can send one on to Bree, I imagine I"ll be there for a while. It is hard to keep in touch in these dark times, but I'd rather not have it as it was when you left Rivendell, so many years ago. Better a letter here and there than none at all._

_On a dismally rainy day,_

_Estel_

We did not stop to stay in Rivendell. Adar traveled with us down one side of the Vale and up the other. We replenished our supplies but made no move to stay at the Last Homely House. I had mixed feelings seeing my childhood home, but did not let it distract me from the journey ahead. Gandalf and Adar took some time to have a private conversation, but we were off before long and I did not deign to pry. We had had little interruption during our travels; only a lone encounter with a hungry mountain troll. However, there was a sense of roiling Watchfulness that pressed in upon us as we continued on to Bree. It became nearly oppressive at times, beating down on my brow with a steady, constant, but invisible malice.

"The Witch King and his companions are about" Gandalf said idly as we sat finishing up a cookpot of porridge. "They do ruin a wizard's breakfast."

I contemplated the absurdity of his statement before voicing my own concern.

"And they seek the Ring?"

"Why certainly" the old wizard assented. "What do you think they have left Minas Morgul for? The Shire's premium pipeweed?"

"You can never be sure" I replied lightheartedly.

"And that, my dear boy, is why you were not born to be an evil mastermind. You'd have us all hooked to Habbishan's finest-growing tobacco and none of us even the slightest bit worse for wear."

"And you?" I retorted. "You'd have us all wearing pointy hats and setting off fireworks day and night!"

"Ah, but a wizard can dream can't he?"

Despite the ominous feeling of oppression, we made it to Bree in good time. The day we arrived, a festival was going on in the opposite side of town from the Prancing Pony. Barliman received us happily and sorted us out into two separate small, but cozy rooms. I settled my things quickly and went to have a talk with the locals. All of them had the same feelings of uneasiness, though they couldn't say what it was from. Strange men had come visiting the bar of late, asking shifty questions and giving no answers. Robbery was common now, as it had not been years before and Hobbits did not care to visit as they once did. The people seemed warier and less welcoming, preferring to give you a nod than to stop and say hello. I came back from my ventures disheartened, and had just sat down in the tavern when Barliman came bustling up with a neatly rolled parchment in his hand and a look of apology.

"Nearly forgot about this I did. Came in yesterday and of course you weren't here, so I put it in the back for safe-keeping." He stood thoughtfully as I took the scroll, feeling a flutter of excitement as I recognized the seal. "Don't see much writing like that around here these days" Barliman continued.

I nodded, absentmindedly picking at the seal while waiting for him to leave. Seeing that I was not going to be forthcoming with any kind of explanation, the innkeeper left me to myself. Without further ado, I ripped open the letter.

_Mellin,_

_How good of you to write to me in the midst of your travels. I imagine finding the time can not have been easy. I am well, thank you for asking. Of late, I have been tending to more and more political responsibility. My father expects much of me, as you well know. My friend, when you live as long as I have lived, you will understand that good and evil will contest each other like night and day. Such is the way of things. We have no more control over the wickedness in the hearts of others than we do over the ebb and pull of the tide. The more we try to control such things, the more we fail. We can only protect those that we love, and even sometimes not them. The tide is dark, but the depths of an open soul are clear. As for our Titles, we cannot run forever. I am grown and so are you, we cannot deny what is ours by blood. The freedoms of youth must wane, you cannot wander forever, Strider. You know what the future holds for you in the White City. Lord Elrond has taught you the ways of governance, though you may not have been aware of why at the time. You are not unfit to be the King of Men, merely unsure. When the time comes to claim your title, you shall do it. On a lighter note, I too worry for your progress as an archer, as you have not mastered the sighting technique as you should. If you do happen to find yourself using a bow and arrow during your travels, be sure to use the arrow as a dagger and the bow as a choker. Then, you surely cannot fail. Smeagol is as content as you could expect him to be. He dislikes our kind and does not care for confinement. I fear that some of the Folk pity his plight, and cater to him when they should not. I myself have not had a chance to spend any great length of time with him, for whatever good it would do. I do hope that this letter reaches you while you are still in Bree. I suspect that Gandalf has kept you quite busy. I hope you are well, and continue to be so._

_On a sunny Mirkwood morn,_

_Legolas_

I read over Legolas' letter several times before tucking it securely into my coat pocket. Unbeknownst to myself, Gandalf had come to sit across from me as I read, and was eyeing me shrewdly. Great, circular rings came out of his pipe and circled in the air between us, slowly changing from shamrock to white and back again. Bushy eyebrows crouched ominously over an insightful brow.

"What news from the Greenwood?" he asked after a time had passed.

"Few" I replied, lighting my pipe. "Naught but pleasantries."

Furry brows furrowed.

"Naught but pleasantries? In these times?"

"Not all news is ill-news" I replied dryly.

"You and Lady Arwen don't exchange letters."

"We do" I countered feeling irritated. "She is not so swift to answer my missives."

Gandalf harrumphed but ceased his questioning. In truth, our brief repertoire had unsettled me. Why did Legolas and I exchange words? Not even Adar and I wrote to each other on a regular basis. My elven friend from the Greenwood had had me promise to write, but I'd never once looked on it as a burden. My letters to Arwen were boastful, churlish even. I winced as I realized this. I only wrote to her when I had a tale to impress her, no wonder she took so long to reply. Not only that, but I hadn't sent the last letter I'd written in the Greenwood, especially after Legolas had insisted it was utterly ridiculous.

"I'm leaving for Hobbiton tomorrow" Gandalf said idly, as if he'd not caused me to think seriously over my decisions of late. "I want you to remain here until you receive word from me, or until you come into the acquaintance of a Hobbit named Frodo Baggins, in which case you must make great haste to Rivendell."

I stared mulishly at him for a while, wondering idly if great wizards came into bossiness naturally or if it was a learned trait.

"And where will you go?" I asked.

"I will meet you in Rivendell I daresay, if we are all fortunate." He smiled bushily. "I'd best turn in, I'm off before sunrise."

He left me there, with my pipe and my letter. And it was there not too long after that I found myself in the company of not one Hobbit but four.

And that...that is when we come into a story you know quite well.


	9. Tolo Amin Nuar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas Arrives in Rivendell

When I was informed of Gollum's escape, I was in partial minds to punish the foolhardy elves who let it happen, and to write a letter to Aragorn informing him of the dilemma. Still, an ambush of orcs is rather a reason to be distracted, and Aragorn was likely no longer in Bree. I had spent my days since his departure looking over historical scrolls pertaining to the One Ring, though I had great knowledge of it already. I had a good idea of what Gandalf intended to do, and thought it desperate but necessary. My father resolutely refused to be more involved in the war than was necessary. He steadfastly insisted that this was a War of Men, and that our people could not determine the outcome. Needless to say, it came as a great surprise when he told me I must go to Rivendell. I was sitting next to him in the throne room, head bent over a missive from the Riverfolk when he made his startling exclamation.

" _Ionneg_ , you must go to Imladris."

So startled was I, that the scroll nearly fell from my hands, a leap of excitement jumping into my throat.

"Adar?" I asked, hardly daring to believe my ears.

"You heard me; and don't look so thrilled" the King of the Woodland Realm said dryly. "Someone must inform Gandalf of Smeagol's escape. Though I know not if it matters, I would rather err on the safer side of things then be accused of deception later on." He handed me several carefully sealed scrolls. "These are for Lord Elrond, make sure that he gets them, and send him my greetings and blessings."

"When do I leave?"

"Now, preferably, with an escort of course." He gave me a long and considering look. "Many Blessings upon you my son."

And so it was that I found myself once more on the road to the Last Homely House, with a heavy feeling in my heart that I would not see my Adar again for a very long time. They day that we left was bright, beautiful, and breezy. We had provisions enough to last us through the trip, and I was in high spirits all the way through Mirkwood. We took the Old Forest Road West until we were out of the trees. Twice, we skirted the shadows to avoid bands of orcs. Normally, we would have engaged them outright, but we were but a small party, and not out scouting. The Old Ford was watched, but we were not stopped in our travels. What observed our passing I cannot say, only that I got an uneasy feeling in my veins that chilled me to the bone. The High Pass was littered with goblins. Even I-accustomed as I was to the occasional ambush in Mirkwood-did not escape unscathed. My escort fared no better, though they did a commendable job defending me. I do feel I would have done better on my own, but it would not do to argue with my father in such hard times.

We made our way down from the Misty Mountains with no further trouble. I wondered vaguely what had brought my father to think that Mithrandir would be in Rivendell. Perhaps he had only intended me to pass the message on to Lord Elrond, if the old wizard was not there. I also pondered on the content of the scrolls, though I had not deigned to peek. As the Valley came into view I felt a flutter of excitement. It was here that I had made my first ventures out into the world, as an emissary of my father. Now I approached Imladris once again, bearing news. Elrond was waiting for us at the Ford, his arm raised in greeting. Beside him was Arwen, and I felt a startling flash of resentment course through me, though I could not say why. This was soon replaced by feelings of guilt and affection, I returned Elrond's gesture smiling genially.

"Be welcome, young Greenleaf" the old elf exclaimed, coming forward to kiss my cheeks. "Long it has been since you last set foot here in Rivendell."

"I thank you, Lord Elrond" I murmured. "'Tis good to be here once more." I inclined my head to Arwen. "My Lady, ever does your presence grace the halls of your father."

"I greet you, Legolas" Arwen said, her eyes dancing. "How long it has been."

Elrond, who had gone to greet my escort while we spoke, returned and gestured that we follow him. The halls of Imladris were unchanged since I had last been there. The ever-flowing voices of water chimed in with fleeting birdsong as we swept up a set of white-washed steps; the soft rays of an evening sun beating on our backs. The iridescent sparkle of a hidden pool caught my eye as we rounded a corridor to the sleeping chambers, bringing with it the smell of cattails and autumn leaves. Somewhere, someone was playing the harp.

"We will leave you to sort out your things and bathe" Elrond commented, stopping outside a set of doors that I recognized as my room during my previous stay. "Dinner is in an hour, we can sit down and discuss our news during that time."

"Thank you, I won't be late" I promised.

I watched as father and daughter dispersed in opposite directions, I then turned and let myself into my rooms. There was a fresh robe and various towels set on the bed for bathing. A great iron basin steamed in the center of the room and I very nearly drooled. Once I was thoroughly bathed, dried, and dressed, I made my way out to the reflecting pool I'd sighted on my way in. I was surprised to find Arwen sitting there, an expression of deep contemplation on her face.

"I heard that you'd been in Lothlorien" I commented idly, as to announce my presence. She smiled without looking up.

"I have, it was glorious." She bent down and pushed a leaf out into the pool. "You've seen Estel, have you not? I heard form Adar he had been by the way of the Greenwood."

"For a fortnight" I agreed. "That was when he sent you the letter regarding the Gondorian Toadstool."

Arwen paused and frowned prettily.

"A fortnight you say?" I nodded. She stared blankly into the pond. "I have received no letters from him during the time frame that would fit your story" she said slowly.

"Oh, but I saw him write it" I supplied, not wanting her to be upset. "It was very good you know, full of detail."

"He let you read it?" she said slowly.

I flushed.

"Well, I may have simply picked it up out of curiosity."

She gave me an odd look then, one that I didn't entirely like. I had a feeling I'd opened my mouth and said too much. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence she stood, a wan but not unfriendly smile upon her lips.

"We should go and have dinner" she said warmly. "Come, you can walk me to the Hall."

"It would be my honor" I said formally, and we both laughed.

Dinner was a private affair, consisting of Elrond, Arwen, and myself. It was a delicious stuffed pepper medley, brimming with soft rice and playful spices. The wine was equally as good as I remembered, with a tinge of apple, honey, and ginger. Only after everything had been cleared away did Elrond deign to ask my business there. When I informed him of Smeagol's escape, his gaze darkened.

"This is ill news indeed" he said grimly. "It means that Sauron has a use for Smeagol that has not yet been made clear."

"I think it is clear enough" Arwen said, shifting a lock of raven hair behind her ear. "Should Gollum come upon the Ring before he does, he may be able to convince him to return it to Mordor."

"What's more likely is he will slip down a hole akin to whence he came, and if Sauron has a great enough force, he shall conquer Middle Earth and we will have lost the means of which to defeat him" Elrond said darkly. "Sauron would much rather have the Ring at his side, but to lose it to a mad wretch like Smeagol is a small threat compared to if we should keep it." I shivered. "I do not know where Gollum would have gone after the battle" Elrond continued. "But we cannot afford to lead another lengthy and possibly fruitless search, there are more pressing matters to attend to. Gandalf will be here soon, so I have sensed. And then so will Aragorn and his charge, and then we must attend the Council, choose a Ringbearer, and select the Fellowship."

I was confused.

"Council? Fellowship?"

Arwen and Elrond exchanged glances.

"Ah yes" the Lord of Imladris said smoothly. "It's time we told you a little more than you know about a certain Hobbit named Bilbo Baggins."  
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I was at the front gate when they arrived.

Four Hobbits, one a little more worse for wear than the others. And one weary Estel, who had eyes only for Arwen. I had taken one thing for certain out of our conversation that night; I wanted to join the Fellowship. My body ached for adventure, I was ready for it, had been ready for it. My father had had his time to roam Middle Earth, and now it would be mine. I waited anxiously for news on the Ringbearer, standing next to the diminutive Hobbit Pippin, and when they announced that Frodo Baggins would be alright, I felt a sense of relief. I was introduced to Merry and Sam, who both seemed quite enchanted by Imladris; they were both ever so polite, though Sam was serious and Merry...Merry lived up to his name. The moment it was announced that Frodo would be alright, Aragorn seemingly disappeared, to which I could not help but feel a little disappointed. I hadn't got a chance to greet him. However, I was soon distracted by Pippin's account of all that had happened on their journey and spent the evening in rapt fascination.

"And _then-!"_ Merry shouted. "-And then well 'ol Pippin here shouts _"of course I know a Frodo Baggins, why-he's right over there-!""_

"I imagine you've heard this story at least three times by now" a voice said by my side.

"He's rather an enthusiastic teller" I said, keeping my eyes fixed on the happy Hobbit. "As is Pippin."

"They're a great endeavor to take about the countryside" Aragorn said dryly. "What with all the breakfasts they think they need."

"Breakfasts?" I asked curiously.

"Nevermind" he said hastily. "How are you? I did get your letter by the way. I imagine you're overwrought, being so far away from home."

"I am far older than you" I said testily. "And I am quite enjoying myself, thank you."

We moved to sit next to the fire, cradling a glass of wine each.

"I'm afraid Arwen is rather fussed with me" Aragorn said after a few moments of companionable silence.

"Oh? Did you detail your preposterous posterior again?" I asked lightly.

"None of that" he retorted good humorously. "And for your information, I never sent that letter, because of your insistence it was...'preposterous' as you'd put it." He kicked his boots up on the massive mantle and took out his pipe. "No, somehow she learned of the existence of this unsent letter, and she's quite upset that I didn't send it." He eyed me sideways. "Now, only one other person knows about this letter other than you, and I haven't been around to tell her about it."

I flushed to the tips of my ears.

"I didn't know you decided not to send it off" I said hesitantly. "Truly, I didn't mean to meddle."

He chuckled amicably.

"Don't fret Legolas, it was quite funny really. First she wanted to know why I was about a Gondorian Toadstool, then she wanted to know why I was letting you read our letters." He gave me a mock-stern look. "I told you it was rude to read other people's mail."

"Perish the thought I might be curious" I sniffed.

"Are you twenty something thousand and something or twenty something?"

And just like that, I forgot about The Ring, forgot about Sauron, forgot about wanting to join the Fellowship. There was only that moment I was spending with Aragorn. It was the nuances of speech, the combined Sindarin and Common dialect, the gesturing of hands and expressions of the face. It was the soft taste of apple blossom wine at the back of the throat, whispering softly as tales were swapped and rings of awful-smelling pipeweed floated in the air.

It was that even as others left we stayed, harnessing the night as ours and ours only. And the waters of Rivendell flowed forward, but time seemed to stand still in the darkness, shrouding us in a suspended limbo of remembrance and camaraderie. So it was as the dying embers of the fire gave way to the rising sun that we both knew something had changed, but we did not speak of it. Nay, we left it there, with the still-warm ashes and headed for breakfast. And there was much left unspoken, but it was Forbidden...so we left it there...

...in the warmth of the dying fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations:**
> 
> Tolo Amin Nuar-come near the fire
> 
> Ionneg-my son


	10. ...Mellyn?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Legolas butts heads with Gimli and struggles to deny his developing feelings for Aragorn_

My father had warned me that dwarves were insufferable. Really, I had no idea. Gimli, Son of Gloin made me furious. True, neither of us had gotten the Ring in the end, and both of us were part of the Fellowship; but the way he spoke to me made my toes curl and my ears burn. As if a dwarf was better than an elf! Ridiculous!

He glared across the stone dais at me, while I resolutely ignored his gaze. In the background, Elrond was discussing the niceties of how the Fellowship would travel to Mordor. All I wanted to do was put an arrow through Gimli's skull.

"I expect you all to be ready to leave tomorrow" Gandalf was saying. "We will make for the High Pass."

"The High Pass is watched" I cautioned. "There is a great force gathering there, though for what I know not. We may be able to sneak by, but we are a large company."

The old wizard harrumphed.

"Well, we will come to that dilemma as we draw closer to the Misty Mountains."

"The way by Isengard is no safer" Aragorn supplied. "We know that now."

We discussed it no further, though there was a sense of uneasiness that accosted us. The Council was dismissed, and we made for our separate tasks. I had had arrows made and fletched for me in the days prior, and had gone about oiling my quiver and bow that morning before the Council. My pack was supplied with lembas, and my water skin filled. I had clothing patches with needle and thread, and a fresh pair of footwear. The only thing left for me to do was compose a letter to my father, explaining my decision. I balked at the idea, as I had no doubt he would be against it. It was a dangerous venture, one that did not guarantee success. Still, it would be good for the Greenwood to have a member of my people be somewhat invested in the fate of Middle Earth. Too oft had we been prone to retreating into the pristine quiet of the Woodlands. Still, it was with a heavy heart that I sent the missive off. Adar would be hurt and angry, and I worried that he would be lonely without me in the Caverns.

"The Council seemed almost as surprised to see you volunteer as me" Frodo remarked thoughtfully.

We were sitting in the annex of an archway overhanging a waterfall. It was near evening, and someone had brought out the lanterns. There was a soft breeze, and the last rays of the sun were peeking over the top of the Vale. Frodo had his cloak wrapped around him, and a book in his lap.

"The folk of the Greenwood are little pressed to meddle with the affairs of Men" I said, looking down at the head of brown curls.

"Like Hobbits" my small conversant said wisely.

"Quite like Hobbits" I agreed.

Frodo's hand drifted to his neck, where the Ring hung ominously.

"Do you think we've made an awful choice, doing all this?"

"I think you have made a far graver choice than I" I said slowly, and he looked disheartened. "But the choices we make make us wiser, though not necessarily in favorable ways. We can only take each day at its time, and understand that all is not certain." I grimaced. "I regret that I cannot assure you that our decisions will bring anything positive to light. We can only sit with the reassurance that our intentions are honest and good-willed."

We sat in silence a while longer then, until I decided to get one final night's rest in a feather bed. I didn't particularly need it, but a part of me knew it was a luxury I would not be able to partake in for a long time after. I meditated briefly before going over my list for the trip one last time. Soon after, I crawled into bed and went to sleep one last time under the eaves of Rivendell. And while my mind was at rest I took comfort in the fact that while I ventured out into the world, I did not do it alone.  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The morning of our departure dawned cold and crisp. I rose early and dressed in my traveler's garb, leaving my bow and arrow in my rooms. Restless feet led me back to the courtyard where the Council had met, and I stood on the perimeter, chewing on my lip as I stared at the stone dais where the Ring had sat. Great sacrifices had been made just to bring it here. What more would the evil thing take from the World before all was said and done? So absorbed was I in my thoughts, I didn't hear the footsteps behind me...and I startled when the individual at my back spoke.

"So we're to do a mission together."

"So it seems" I agreed. "Quite an important mission too."

"I haven't the faintest why you agreed to it."

I startled at the harsh note of disgust, and I turned to face Aragorn fully. On his face was a thunderous scowl.

"I...don't understand" I said confusedly.

"Your first mission" he all but spat. "Your _first_ mission out from under the hand of your father and you choose this?!"

"And you think I am not worthy?" I retorted feeling my own ire begin to rise. "I am not a child Estel!"

"You could die" he said bluntly. "You could die and then what would happen to your Father?"

"Says the heir of Gondor" I scoffed. "You could die and then your line would be ended."

"You and I both know that Men will walk this earth long after your kind are gone" Aragorn shot back. "Whether I live or not."

"I want to do this!" I retorted. "And why shouldn't I? I'm just as qualified as you."

"That you may be, but you and I both know the costs of this mission will be high."

I sat down disgustedly; first my father and now this?! Would I ever be free from the meddlesome opinions that saw me as a coddled princeling?

"I would think you would support me" I said bitterly. "After all, what do we strive for in this world but a means for Good to triumph over Evil?"

A hand on my shoulder startled me, and I looked up to see Aragorn looking contrite.

"I'm sorry" he mumbled. "I know you are just as learned as I am, if not more. I've just never been on a quest that seems so futile and desperate. And I'll be damned if I see you come with me only to fall, without a single word of caution."

For a while, only the sound of leaves skittering across the courtyard could be heard as we were still; contemplating what lay ahead. I was both confused and flattered. I understood that he saw me as a dear friend, and took my livelihood deeply to heart. But it wasn't as if I couldn't take care of myself, and he knew it. For years, we had both trained our differing abilities to a level of mastery very few could achieve. We were not only warriors but healers and scholars in our own rights; we did not go forth blindly. Neither of us were ignorant. And so Elrond found us; silent, with his hand on my shoulder and our eyes to the future. We did not speak of the argument, having come to an unspoken truce. And so we left Imladris with a priceless charge, with the sun at our backs and a black, soundless view ahead.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"I cannot abide by the elf skipping about this terrain! It is made for regular, sturdy footsteps I tell you! Not twirls and leaps!"

A flock of birds took flight at Gimli's insistent growling. We had been travelling nigh three days and already the dwarf had found numerous problems with my presence. I rarely slept, so I must be snooping about the pack for extra food. I spoke to the trees - few as there were in such rocky terrain - so I must be insane. And now, I stepped lightly, so I must be dancing and making light of the others' toil. I myself had avoided confrontation with Gimli at all costs. Indeed, I did not deign to speak with him at all, unless it was to defend my supposedly _'terrible'_ behavior. Boromir appeared to care little for our quarrels; pressing on at a steady pace whilst willfully ignoring us. Gandalf kept up good spirits no matter what nature of events befell us, and our banter earned the occasional raised bushy brow but naught more. The Hobbits, save Frodo, seemed to find our spats rather funny, poorly stifling snickers in the background. Aragorn was sick to death of it, and seemed rather close to strangling one or both of us.

"I do not _leap,_ dwarf" I said through gritted teeth. "And if I should walk half as loud as you do, every troll within a league would know we were coming!"

"Why you-!"

"-Enough!"

There was a loud, _***thump***_ and everyone looked around, shocked to see Aragorn, Son of Arathorn had dropped his pack and was standing with his arms folded.

"Mr. Strider?" Sam said uncertainly.

 _"You"_ he hissed at me. "You know better than to rise to petty insults no matter what race they come from." I blinked stupidly as he turned to Gimli. "You need to concentrate on our journey, and not the mannerisms of others." Gimli harrumphed and looked at the ground. "And you three" Aragorn addressed the Hobbits. "You need not laugh at their ridiculousness." The Hobbits looked bemused, Aragorn ran a hand over his face. "We are camping here, despite the fact it is only midday, and you'd best expect to do double-time tomorrow to make it up. Mayhap that will teach you to get along."

And with that, he grabbed his pipe, lit it, and sat down; a glowering expression on his face daring us to say anything. Gandalf's beard was twitching mightily as he too sat, whistling a merry tune. Frodo laid out his bedroll and promptly fell asleep, apparently having decided to take advantage of the extra rest. Merry and Pippin set about helping Sam tie up Bill, and Boromir found a lofty perch on a rock to watch they way behind and ahead. That left only Gimli and I, standing side by side, looking resolutely away from one another. Aragorn eventually rose to find solace further away, sparing neither of us a glance. Gimli cleared his throat.

"I suppose we're going to have to give it a rest" he growled.

"It seems we have no choice" I said bitterly. "I'm going to meditate" I added after a moment, he grunted in response.

I left to find a suitable spot, well away from the others. I was grumpy, admittedly, and felt guilty for subjecting the rest of the party to such punishment. I had half a mind to tell Gimli we ought to gather everyone and form some measure of apology. My pride squashed this idea before it could form into anything lucrative, however. What gave Estel the right to boss me around in any case? He had the Evenstar hanging about his neck now, maybe that filled him with a greater sense of responsibility. For some reason, it only filled me with ire whenever I caught sight of it. Maybe because I had no token from a lover of my own.

 _"Or maybe, because you wish the token he carries was from you"_ a slow, insidious voice whispered in the back of my mind.

I wrenched the thought from my consciousness, dashing it into a metaphorical dust. There would be none of such thoughts, they were dangerous and deadly.

"Legolas."

I was pulled from my meditation like one who has been asleep before a thunderclap. I was doused in the bright afternoon light; reminding myself where I was and what I was doing. My fingers curled reflexively as I drew a deep breath to ground myself. Aragorn knelt before me, his grey eyes solemn and stern, the Evenstar hanging from his neck….

...I wanted to yank it off.

'Tis a strange thing, to want to rip jewelry off a person like it might save their life. It was as if a snake slithered about his shoulders, and I but wanted to save him. But the sensible part of me whispered that it was not a snake but a token, a token of protection from the Lady Arwen. Arwen, who was kind and loyal and the lady whom he loved. To do such a thing would surely enrage him and I did not want that because he was surely my friend...my-

 _"-Friend?"_ I said aloud; and it must have seemed as if I was asking because his face softened and he clasped my shoulder.

"Of course" he said roughly. _"Mi van mellyn_ , remember?" I smiled shakily, still lost in the cloud of my thoughts. "Maybe I should not have been so harsh but the better we all get along, the more successful this mission will be." He took a seat beside me and pulled out his pipe. "Remember, we all want the same thing; to see the One Ring destroyed." I nodded and he smiled. "You do leap sometimes, you know. Are you sure you're not giving us a show?"

And a part of me despaired at how easy it was for him to charm me. Surely, an elf of several thousand years of existence shouldn't be so easily placated. And yet, with a jest full phrase and a flair of humor my pride and discomfort disappeared. I was laughing and smiling, unable to do anything to stop it. And of I fell short of defending my honor that day, I cared not. There was only now and him. And by the Gods I was lost and it was hopeless. I knew, but at the same time I didn't. There was only now.


	11. Moria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The Fellowship Continues on Their Journey...Legolas feels trapped in the Mines_

True to his word, Aragorn made us do double-time the next day. Though it did little to affect me, I could see that it affected the rest of the party greatly. Frodo especially seemed the hardest hit, preferring to keep to the back with his head down. I felt a pang of resentment towards my friend, after all, I felt most of us had gotten his point the day before.

As most of you know. Gimli and I continued to quarrel. Indeed, after that day, everyone seemed to resign themselves to our antics. Thought perhaps not the most productive of solutions, it was certainly the simplest.

As we ascended the mountains, it began to snow. I personally had little issue with it at first. After all, it wasn't as if I was unused to it. I rather enjoyed the large, tufty flakes that landed on the tip of my nose and ears. It reminded me of Midwinter in the Greenwood; when Adar would help string up lantern-lights insides the caves. Great boughs of pine and holly were brought in to mount above the doorways and candles glittered in every corner. The mantelpieces sported spruce and juniper, all tied up with white and gold strands of silk. When I was young, Adar would make a honeycake down in the kitchens. There was always just one, but it was all mine and I loved it. My father would then tie a red thread to my finger when I slept and when I woke I had to follow it, snuffing a white candle in each room I perused and tying a knot. The last room was always the inner fountain, and Adar would take the thread and wind it about a statue of Illuvatar. The thin fabric would be absorbed, casting a faint glow as a result; which was of course magical to me as an elfling. I would then get a single present, which Adar would tell me was from the Lady Elbereth. Maybe it seems a silly tradition, but I cherished it. Of course I grew older and learned otherwise, but it is still a dear memory.

"And where've you gone off to?" Pippin's voice came from my right side. I looked down and smiled.

"I was recalling Midwinter in the caverns. The snow reminds me of it."

"Ahh, you should see it in the Shire! 'Tis magnificent!" Merry supplied to my left. Pippin nodded enthusiastically. "We call it One and Two Yule and we decorate our houses with the Red Maiden Flower!"

"The Red Maiden Flower?" I asked curiously.

"'Tis a large scarlet bloom" Pippin supplied. "With dark green leaves and five great petals. We put it round our doors and on our mantles."

"And we have tens and sevenses!" Merry exclaimed. "With all matter of food!"

"It sounds wonderful" I said in amusement.

"You ought to come and celebrate with us someday" Sam said eagerly, having been listening in on our conversation. "My old gaffer'd be mighty pleased to have an elf at the dinner table."

"And you all must come to the Greenwood sometime" I said in turn. "I daresay my father would be delighted to have some Hobbits come to stay."

The three beamed and even Frodo-who was ambling quietly next to Sam-smiled a little bit.

"And how do the dwarves celebrate Midwinter?" Pippin asked Gimli.

" _Och!_ We have great fires burning all about the halls!" the dwarf exclaimed. "We bring out our fines mead and roast lamb and venison and play _"toss the axe"_ and _"pull the beard"_!"

"Sounds painful" Frodo remarked quietly.

"A hardy dwarf has strength in his chin as well as his arms!" Gimli proclaimed, waving his ax. "And the first lout who squeals must sit in the butter dish!"

I coughed mightily, more to hide a laugh than anything.

"Do wizards celebrate Midwinter?" Same pondered quietly.

"Well, young Master Gamgee" came Gandalf's gravelly voice from behind. "We do, we-"

**_"-Set off fireworks"_** we all chorused.

"Hmph! I don't know why you asked if you already knew!"

"It seems my Midwinters have been spent differently than yours" Aragorn said idly, his gaze looking forward through the flakes.

"Do tell! Do tell!" Gimli said heartily.

"Elrohir once strapped me to a horse with naught but my knickers and a spring of mistletoe, and proceeded to send me through the elfmaiden's poetry reading" he said airily. Merry and Pippin guffawed. "Mind you, I was fast asleep. But Adar was furious. I think Elrohir spent a month in the library that winter."

The wind suddenly picked up from a low moan to a howl, and the flakes began to fall faster and thicker. Frodo stumbled and I caught his arm, handing him off to Aragorn, who shunted the Hobbit into the confines of his cloak.

"Go ahead" he shouted at me. "Tell us what you see."

"There are fell voices in the air!" I exclaimed.

"It is Saruman" Gandalf shouted over the wind. "He seeks to bring the mountain down upon us!"

"We _must_ press forward" Boromir said stubbornly. "What choice to we have?"

And yet as we continued onward, the snow only fell faster and the drifts piled up before us. Soon, all except for me were forced to flounder forward. Gandalf appeared to be melting a path with his staff but it was slow, tedious work and the road was becoming treacherous The sheer cliffs that yawned beside us were an ominous reminder of what should happen if we misstepped The wind seemed to howl with the force of a thousand hounds, and after a while even I was forced to fall in with the rest of the party, head bent against the onslaught of wind and sleet. Our situation seemed to be growing evermore futile.

"Gandalf, we cannot prevail!" Aragorn shouted. "We must turn back!"

"There is no other way!" the wizard retorted.

"Let us go through Moria!" Gimli shouted. "We shall be greeted warmly by Balin!"

"Let the ringbearer decide" Gandalf once again retorted.

There was a moment of silence, where all eyes were on Frodo, who looked distinctly uncomfortable at being put on the spot.

"We shall go through Moria" he said quietly.

Gandalf appeared to hesitate, as though tempted to argue. He then steeled himself, and appeared to have a strengthening of resolve.

"So be it" he said grimly.

As we began to descend, there was a near-immediate lessening of the wind.

"-you especially should be wary of Moria" Aragorn was murmuring to Gandalf, who grunted but made to wave the Ranger's comment away, as he noticed me listening in.

There was the unspoken and terrible truth that we had no other choice. Wolves attacked us that very night, and the crebain would certainly return by morning. I thought of traversing darkened tunnels and shivered. What I wouldn't have given for a whit of Gimli's certainty! He seemed so sure we would be greeted like Kings. I had no memory of a King serving long in the deeps. Too oft were there tales of the stirring of Ancients; of monsters that crept from grievous depths to terrorize the living. I liked not the thought of perusing tunnels that bespoke nothing of the light of day. Still; we went forward bravely, and when the Watcher in The Water rose from the unknown depths to entomb us in the Mountains I could only look ahead.

For that is what you do when your way back is gone forever.  
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

You learn that time moves slowly, when you are underground. Hours feel like days and days are months. I was used to caves, but brightly lit ones close to the surface. Here, the darkness swallowed you whole, left to trudge forward in the belly of an endless night. We spoke little; so as not to attract the attention of uglier things than the blackness that was all-encompassing. There was the drip of water everywhere; in the black pools that trickled at our feet, to the occasional thundering deluge that swept by a neighboring passage.

We passed chasms that threw up icy air and a horrendous sense of depth, and intricately carved doorways with hissing and murmuring shadows. Ranks gusts of still air gave way to larger and smaller passages, and the eyes played little tricks; feigning ghostlights wavering on the edges of vision only to disappear when looked at directly. I felt the dizzying weight of so much time passed, and a tragic history that would span many books. For what do Mountains do but watch? And the darkened stones tell no tales despite their weathering. I found myself longing for open air and sky; for the whisper of the trees and the smell of the wind. Even the whisk of my fingers against tender blades of grass was a grievous thought.

"You musn't lose hope, Legolas" came Aragorn's voice out of the darkness. Calloused hands grasped my own, and I felt a flash of warmth and hope. "Not far now _mellon-nin."_

He released me and moved forward, towards Gandalf's dim wizardlight. But for hours the memory of his fingers in mine was a small warmth in my lonely soul. And what I wouldn't have given for him to hold on a bit longer. But it was enough, just enough to go on, in the heart of the Deep.


	12. Death And Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The Fellowship experiences a great tragedy and Aragorn begins to realize his feelings for Legolas extend beyond friendship_

I had been in Moria before.

It does no good to speak of it here, save to say that I escaped. But my memory is clear; as it was then, and I knew what horrors could befall us. Greater men than I have quailed at the mention of what was once a great dwarven city. Though time and circumstance may distort the memory of many things, we do not forget the places that give mention to naught but legendary horror. So it was that I entered once more with a feeling that we wandered willingly into great peril. Even Gandalf-as great and powerful a man as I ever knew-was subdued and quiet.

We followed the light from his staff like moths to a flame. To trail behind was to be lost in the blackness. Though he conferred with me in brief, hastily whispered snatches of conversation on which way to go, he seemed to know the way. Indeed, it seemed as if he had been there before, and perhaps he had, when it was still a great city. I couldn't and still can't imagine filling such great darkness with enough light to make it all liveable. But it once was and perhaps one day will be again. At the time, all I could concentrate on was the oppressive blackness about us.

Legolas seemed to fair worst in the Deeps. Elves are used to sun and sky; they fade quickly under the oppressive weight of sunless corridors and windowless halls. I knew not how to console him, as we had little time for words. Not only that, but too much chatter could prove fatal. Still, as the days wore on, it seemed I might be forced to strike up a conversation with him, for the sake of his sanity.

We had stopped for a sleep, though one could not tell whether it was day or night. In any case, we had reached a great hall with magnificent pillars. Gandalf and Gimli spent a great amount of time regaling the prosperous history of Moria, during which I dragged my bedroll near to Legolas; which earned me a questioning look. We took our usual routine, with the Hobbits in the middle and the rest of us on the outer perimeter. I asked Boromir to take first watch, and he was gracious, if a little disappointed. I knew and understood his reticence; it is a mind-bending thing, to stare into pitch-blackness hearing and seeing nothing but looking for something of which you know not. I patiently waited for Legolas to get ready, sitting quietly through his meditation, and eating a bit of bread while he chewed on a sliver of lembas. He then crawled into his bedroll and lay as still as stone. I took this as my cue to move closer, which I did, until we were near side-by-side. Elven ears perked during all of this, and my friend observed my actions with an expression of bewilderment.

 _"Man cerig?"_ he hissed.

 _"U-iston"_ I muttered, re-positioning my blankets.

Gimli gave a loud snore.

 _"Ego"_ Legolas griped.

"Not until we talk" I whispered. He looked at me suspiciously and I sighed. "You're not faring well down here, I can tell."

The fair haired elf grimaced, what little I could see of his face contorting in the wizardlight.

"'Tis but a passing thing. I shall be fine."

"Do not presume to fool me" I chided. "I know the ways of elves, you are not meant for caves."

Dark eyes glittered at me, a flash of pain searing through them before going away.

"It is like being buried alive" he said flatly. "I feel I am in a tomb."

I felt a stab of sympathy.

"Truly Legolas, we should be out before long."

"I know" he whispered.

Sensing he was still unsettled, I fished around for something else to speak of.

"Do you remember when Adar found us in the blueberry patch, that time you visited when I was young?"

Legolas chuckled.

"I let you eat far too many" he said amusedly. "And oh were you sick."

"You'd rather a knack for letting me overindulge" I admitted dryly. "If you'd lived in Rivendell, I'd have been a spoilt brat."

"You are a spoilt brat."

I poked his nose and he yelped, the sound echoing through the enormous hall.

"if I'd known you were going to chit-chat the whole night I'd have made the two of you take watch" Boromir complained.

"We'll be quiet" Legolas said hastily. "We were just...talking."

"Sounded more like _flirting_ to be" Boromir said scathingly.

There was a deafening silence after that, and I was terribly afraid Legolas would start an argument, but he said nothing. I was suddenly self-conscious and hyper-aware that I was blushing furiously. For once I was glad of the dark. It was uncalled for, such comments. Granted, Boromir was likely tired, and he had graciously taken over my watch. He hadn't meant the jibe literally, merely in irritation. It had been something said out of exhaustion, anger, and haste.

 _"So why does it bother you so much?"_ a voice in the back of my mind whispered.

There was a shuffling next to me and I started as cold fingers pressed my own.

"Thank you, Estel" Legolas whispered.

And though he did not linger, I fell asleep warmed by the fact that I had succeeded somewhat in making him feel better. And if a voice in my head hissed how absurd it was for such a little thing to satisfy me, I ignored it...as I would ignore many other subtleties in the days to come.  
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"To the Bridge of Khazad-dûm!" Gandalf shouted, and we all rushed to follow him.

Felling yet another orc with a sweep of my sword, I scrambled to obey. They were behind us and around us, virtually everywhere. We were all stained with the blood of our enemies, mingled with our own from the wounds we had received. I could not fault Pippin, he hadn't meant to raise such an alarm. We would have run into trouble eventulally, not that this was any less serious than what we would encounter later, but logic has always given me acceptance in dire times.

"Ai Elbereth!" Legolas cried, looking back.

I did and my heart got caught in my throat. A great, boiling cloud of what seemed to be smoke and fire roiled up behind us. The orcs-so hell-bent on catching us-screeched and scrabbled over each other to get out of the way. It had the semblance of a man, but was far too tall. Where it walked, great pillars of flame rose up, and a feeling of terrible power went before it.

"A Balrog" Gandalf said grimly. "This foe is beyond any of you. Run!"

And so it was; half-blind and half-mad with fear we raced down the Dimril Stair, with what seemed to be an inferno itself on our heels, wakened from a dark slumber. The occasional twang of Legolas' bow gave me some small comfort, as it was an indicator that he still followed. Even as the intense heat at our backs grew, I was encouraged by the fact that none of us had fallen behind. I am a man that fears very little; but fear I did then. I was acutely aware of all that could be lost if we should fail to get away, and it filled me with anguish.

And so it was that we made our way across the bridge of Khazad-dûm; with all that was before us painfully clear and the way behind consumed by the blackness of a demon. And when Gandalf took his stand I felt a painful sense of dread, crawling up from my toes to my stomach. Even as the bridge was shattered and the Balrog fell, my sense of uneasiness did not abate. It stayed, like a snake coiled and ready to strike. So when that infernal whip came hurtling back up through the darkness, I felt not surprise but a painful, pre-acknowledged despair. And so it was that Gandalf the Grey fell, and we were left staring over the maw of an empty fit with hearts full of grief and hopelessness.

Yet with the orcs still close on our heels we had no time to stay and mourn. It took the rest of us to pull the Hobbits away, determined as they seemed to stay and rescue their fallen friend. It felt wrong, even as we rushed out into the open air-it felt wrong to just leave without saying our goodbyes. The Hobbits cried openly and Gimli cried out in despair and flung his axe. Legolas said naught but stared into space with a numb expression, his face deathly pale. Boromir appeared to steel himself, though his eyes were red and his hands shook. It felt like losing a limb, really. Only Gandalf had the knowledge and power to guide us to Mordor. How we would get there without him was beyond me. But now was not the time for that. Now we had to find shelter before nightfall, despite our grief. And so I urged us onward, ever-aware of the setting sun at our backs, and knowing there was no guarantee we would be welcome in Lothlorien.

I was disappointed, when they insisted that Gimli's eyes be bound. Truly, I have no patience for prejudice, and in such dark times there are surely more pressing matters to attend to. SO it was with a heavy heart that I offered all of us be blindfolded. Though it was only for a short time, I still ached to see the woods of Lorien. Haldir himself seemed ashamed, for he whispered his sincere apologies to me as he led us forward. I held nothing against him; neither man nor elf can be faulted for following the orders of their superiors.

We spent the night in the trees, and I listened to the voices of nature around us. I was achingly reminded of Gandalf's love of nature. Again, I felt lost without him, and knew not how we would continue on. There were many perils in our way, and I did not know what was intended of us. Had Gandalf meant to march right up to the Black Gates and tear them asunder? Did he intend to march with a great army-perhaps Gondor or Rohan, or both-and storm the dark keep? All of these things seemed ludicrous and nigh-impossible when I considered the intricacies behind them. I slept fitfully, my mind too focused on what should be done to escape into the vestiges of sleep. And so it was that when we rose to leave the next morning, I was still weary.

The Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn waited upon us in the white tower. She spoke words of comfort and solace, words that I could only grasp at in a desperate attempt to find some sort of peace. I gazed at her and remembered that she was Arwen's grandmother. I wondered if she knew of me-of what I intended to be to her granddaughter-and if she approved. After all, very few knew me as anything but a Ranger of the Dunedain. What did she think of her kin wedding a man of the west? Would she give her blessing when the time came?

 _"I do, and I will"_ said a humorous and musical voice in my head. Startled, I realized she gazed directly at me, a faint smile on her lips. _"Aragorn son of Arathorn, you are a good and noble man. There are many things before you, and much behind. You would be a good match for our Arwen."_ She looked away and I realized she also addressed others silently, yet her voice continued on in my head. _"However, I would ask that you consider deeply before you wed, as there is a shadow of another in your heart."_

I was confused. Even as Boromir near-fled the room, I stayed utterly still. I knew of no one else whose attentions I had sought. Indeed, it upset me a little that she would accuse me so. Ever had I been Faithful and good to Arwen. For years I had striven to earn her hand.

 _"Who is it you speak of?"_ I demanded.

The Lady's face was gentle as she looked my way once more, her tone smooth and non-confrontational.

 _"I know not"_ she replied. _"As I suspect you do not either. I see but a silhouette in your soul. It is faint, but steady, and surely cannot be mistaken."_

We were dismissed to take our rest then, each having had their respective 'conversations' with Galadriel. I hurried to help the Hobbits set about getting comfortable. I was desperate to put my conversation with the Lady from my mind, it troubled me deeply, for I knew that a being such as she would never lie. As we gathered our belongings, we reminisced on our times with Gandalf. Everyone seemed to have taken his passing hard, especially Frodo. He tried to compose a bit of poetry, but seemed not to have the heart for it. The elves sang their lament in the eves as we sat in mourning. Boromir pulled me aside after a while, to speak of his concern for Gondor. I was truly sorry to see him in such distress, but knew also that the Ring was working its Evil upon all of us. I worried for the mission, with what seemed like darkness pressing in on all sides. Moreover, I wondered if we all could truly survive the journey.

 _"Av-'osto"_ came a quiet voice from behind me.

I stood a little ways away from the rest of the Fellowship. My gaze was drawn by the trees all around us, a soft breeze wending its way through the branches. It was growing dark, and it seemed that the stars came to life, glittering like ethereal lanterns far above us. It was strange, to be in a place so at peace in times of war.

"I don't fear for myself" I said grimly. "I fear for us if we should fail."

"We all do" Legolas replied, coming to stand beside me. He wore a simple tunic, of a lighter shade, and his hair was pulled back carefully. I was all of a sudden accosted with a desire to embrace him, as I had when I was little, but I quickly reigned this in. The sudden onslaught of such feelings prevented me from coming up with any kind of clever conversation, so I remained silent. "You are troubled" my friend continued, a hand resting on my shoulder.

I took a deep breath, forcing my weariness and worry to the back of my mind.

"Nay" I said, turning to face him with a smile. "Merely one human with dreams that would take a thousand."

Legolas tilted his head, an errant strand of golden hair falling across his chin

"Then make them real" he said firmly. "I know you can Aragorn."

"If I do not despair first, I will" I whispered, suddenly feeling as desperate and lonely as I ever had.

He must have heard something in my voice, for he did embrace me then, and I felt like a drowned man come up for air. He smelled of lemon-soft, with the scents of the forest-and yet strong all at once. I very much felt like crying hysterically, which was not at all like me. There was an overwhelming feeling of safety and comfort. My nerves, wracked with grief from the death of Gandalf, were suddenly at peace. It felt as if I had been running without pause for months and finally I was allowed to collapse from exhaustion.

"Estel" he said soothingly. "Have peace."

We drew apart, slowly, both of us reluctant to acknowledge the world around us once more. Legolas looked uncertain, which surprised me. To assuage his sudden shyness, I suggested we sit together for a while, and he agreed gratefully. We reminisced of youth, of our time in Mirkwood. Instead of the great gloom that weighed heavily on our souls, we spoke of betters times. There is something to be said for the power of simple, lighthearted conversation. I felt a weight in my mind ease, and for once, I did not feel as if the world were lying across my shoulders. It was hard to think of such things when Legolas spoke of the berry fields in the deeps of the Greenwood, and how he dipped his hand in the honey jar when he was an elfling and thought Thranduil wouldn't notice. We conversed for a long time, under the stars in Lothlorien. And I was acutely aware of how I was attentive to every word Legolas spoke; of how the light from the lanterns caught his eyes and made them like pools of sapphire, and how his hair turned a haunting silver in the intense moonlight. I drank deep of solace, admiration, friendship, and comfort. And after a time, I grew tired and went back for sleep. Legolas remained, not wanting to lose a second of wakefulness in a sacred place of his people. Before I retired, he clasped my hand with a small smile.

"All will be well" he said comfortingly.

I smiled, a little ruefully.

"When you tell me thus, I almost feel as if it is already so."

And as I went to sleep, I knew whose shadow Galadriel had seen in my heart, I just had no idea what to do about it, if I should indeed do anything at all.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Of the little time we spent in Lothlorien, I did my best to avoid Legolas after the night under the stars. Moreover, I made sure to immerse myself in things that reminded me of Arwen. I went to a poetry reading before dawn of the next day, tired as I was. I made sure to visit a flower garden she had mentioned and sat there a long while. For a time, I considered only Arwen. I thought of how I missed her strength and wisdom. Truly, I would never have thought a man such as I could earn her affection. When I first saw her, it was like gazing at a star so far out of reach. I was struck with awe but at the same time my heart failed, for what would a creature like her want with the likes of me? And yet, before we left Rivendell she had pressed the Evenstar into my palm and professed her undying love. I looked out, onto the sea of softly blooming winter rose. All around me, the tall trees of Lorien grew; sheltering me from prying eyes. Despite the success of my romantic endeavors, I was suddenly amorously discontent, and I couldn't place why. Oh, I knew it was Legolas who moved me so. I just couldn't understand why now? At a time when my purpose seemed clear, now I had feelings for another to consider? Did I deserve to marry Arwen if my heart was not entirely hers? What exactly did I _feel_ for Legolas? Did I desire him? What did I love about him?

_"I love his smile."_

The answer came unbidden, like a whisper of wind in my soul, and soon the answers flowed forth; like a bubbling stream.

_"I love how his eyes glow when he smiles. And he is so patient, tolerant and wise. He is my equal in many things, but he would never compete with me for a greater achievement, nor I him. He can tell a story and everything slows, its like the whole world is listening. He attends to what I say, and takes it to heart. Never have I known him to be dishonest or cruel, and he is undoubtedly fair. When he runs, his forth is lithe and free. He seems attuned to that which is around him, especially in nature. Nothing compares to the sight of him with a bow in his arms-"_

I found myself flushing at my own thoughts. It was _scandalous_ to think in such a way. I was only damaging myself by sitting and picking my brain. The deeper I delved, the more questions came out. I hated being unsure of myself, and I was left staggering under the weight of my revelations. I felt sure if Galadriel looked into my mind again, she would see who dwelt so close to Arwen in my heart. Just the thought of her discovering such a thing was enough to set me to pacing. I was accosted with a sudden desire to run far away and never look back. I-of course-did not do this, but I left the garden feeling as if I had come to it as one person and left as someone else. It was a truly disturbing experience. Needless to say, I determined to put space between myself and Legolas until I sorted out what I was sure was a temporary insanity. There was no point in subjecting either of us to awkwardness and discomfort.

I was also aware of how hard this avoidance would be. Since Gandalf's death, many of the Fellowship had turned to me for advice. It seemed I had been appointed as Guide, and I would be doing a lot of talking whether I liked it or not. Gandalf had always been very knowledgeable when it came to traversing Middle Earth; not that I knew nothing myself There is always something that comes with age and wisdom that gives one a measure of authority. I feared I didn't have that behind me as of yet. I also worried for our ability to resist that Ring, as I had felt its pull greatly of late, and was sure the others did also. What would happen if one of us succumbed to its call-if I succumbed-surely we would be lost. After all, the blood of Isildur ran in my veins, and he had not been able to resist.

All these thoughts plagued me during my time in Lothlorien. If the others noticed my mental distress, they did not comment on it. Frodo seemed buried in worries of his own, and Sam, Pippin, and Merry were far to preoccupied with the glory of the Dwimordene to notice much else. Boromir seemed so stressed with being in Lorien all else escaped his noticed, and Gimli was enamored of Galadriel. Legolas spent much of his time with his kin and for that I was grateful. It spared me the awkwardness of making excuses to be away from him. I busied my remaining time there by making sure we were well-stocked in supplies, and that our weapons were sharpened, oiled, cleaned, and shined. I had some small conversations with Haldir, but each time we spoke he seemed to guess that my thoughts were haunted, and continually offered to share my mental burden. As much as I trusted the gentle elf with my secrets, I did not feel like baring my soul of subjects I knew so little. Though a kind ear can do the heart good, one often finds themselves in a position that does not allow for a confidant.

We made ready to leave in good time; though it seemed that Lorien was outside the confines of earthly time-keeping. The hours that passed seemed seamless and everlasting, at once pleasant and unnerving. Celeborn gave us each the offer of staying on, but our purpose was too dire. I myself wondered why he should offer such a thing at all, but the ways of elves are often incomprehensible.

We were undecided on which way to go. Boromir showed a great interest in going to Minas Tirith, but I was loathe to bring the One Ring to the White City. Too oft are the eyes of Men drawn to glory and conquest rather than the greater good. I could only hope that such thoughts wouldn't be Boromir's downfall. Though the others debated hotly on the subject of our navigation, I myself stayed quiet. Whatever we decided, it had to be in the best interests of the Ringbearer. As you know, Galadriel bestowed many gifts upon us, for which we all were undeniably grateful. The sheath she gave me for Anduril was noble and well made, and the gem exquisite.

I purposefully put Legolas in a separate boat, but he was far too preoccupied with his new bow to notice. It was in fact Gimli who gave me a curious glance as we sorted ourselves, but I made to act as normally as I ever had. It would do no good to dwell on things such as what had plagued me in Lothlorien. So we left the woods of Galadriel and sailed on the Anduin. And it was with heavy hearts that we left such a beautiful place behind, and looked on with our way uncertain and full of peril.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations:**
> 
>  
> 
> "Man cerig?"-"What are you doing?"
> 
> "U-iston"-"I don't know" more-"I'm not really sure" on Aragorn's part.
> 
> "Ego"-"Go away!"
> 
> "Av-'osto"-"Don't be afraid."


	13. Down The Anduin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Aragorn continues his avoidance of Legolas, to the elf's great confusion._

There's something about the ever-present flow of endless water that becomes monotonous. Elves have a great love of the sea, but I have no heart for it. The boundless depths of the unknown have 'oft disturbed and repelled me; not so much a fear as a distaste. I considered in later years that perhaps I thought the aqueous depths my competitor; bewitching the heart of my beloved and leaving me bereft. Nevertheless, thought the Anduin was beautiful and its history boundless, I longed to be on land once more.

The Eastern banks grew evermore dreary. They faced Mordor and the land itself seemed to cry out in oppression. Though we met no disturbance for several days, I became acutely aware that we were being followed. I could recognize those glowing, orb-like eyes and that slinking posture anywhere. I'd dragged them from the Dead Marshes to the Greenwood, after all. Gollum was following us. I wasn't particularly concerned by his presence; though I did try and catch him a few times. He wouldn't try to attack us outright, not with so many of us. My main concern was that he would inform Sauron of our whereabouts, and that we would be besieged by a greater force. Gollum was a sick, sorry soul, but that did not stop him from being clever and conniving.

So it was that we pressed on with greater speed, ever-aware of the silent stalker at our backs. It was with a guilty heart that I immersed myself in our perils; grateful for even the slightest distraction from my thoughts of Legolas. When we were worried or rushed, I could throw myself into the action and forget. So I took double-watches and volunteered to row as 'oft as I could. Boromir and I took turns swapping tales, and I even let Gimli give me a two hour lecture on proper beard-care.

We rotated boats often, for the simple fact that the others required varied conversation. I could not fault them for it; I understood the need to speak with different people from time to time. Despite my best efforts to ignore what he did, I could not help but notice that Legolas and Gimli made and effort to be civil with each other. Rather, their constant 'arguments' seemed more in jest than in quarrel now. It both made me glad and wistful, for I had made sure that my conversations with Legolas were few and far-between. I was sure now that I was in love with him, though I couldn't fathom when such a change had befallen me. It was both a joy and a curse to acknowledge my feelings, and I made all the more sure to hide my thoughts from the others. Still, in the quiet moments I would catch myself. I found that when the sun-however sparse it was in such land-caught Legolas' hair just right, it threw a small halo of butter-yellow incandescence about his shoulders. His fingers working the knots of a fishing line were slim and graceful; the nails smooth buttermilk and salmon-hued crescents; supple as willow branches. And it was with a thrill of lasciviousness and a flush of shame that I would wrench myself away.

Frodo was walking me through the complicated lineage of Hobbiton while Sam sat by his side with occasional corrections; the air was cold and stale.

"No, no Mister Frodo. you musn't confuse the Babbitons with the Tillibits. They're only sixth cousins after all" Sam chided the Ringbearer gently.

"But wasn't Sally Tillibits wed to Abel Babbiton Sr.?" Frodo mused.

"He said that because she hit him 'round the head with a butter churn at the tavern. I don't think he ever got about buying a ring."

Half listening, I eyed the rippling waters around us with a feeling of unease. The banks were evermore foreboding and I'd seen naught of Gollum since the night before. A hand rested on my shoulder as the two hobbits bent their heads in good-natured debate. Blue eyes regarded me coolly as I lifted my head, and I was again accosted with desire and confusion. Surreptitiously shifting my shoulder away, I nodded a greeting to my friend. Boromir had stolen Merry away to regale him with stories of the glory and splendor of Gondor, and Gimli had conspired to watch over Pippin, which left me with Frodo, Sam, and Legolas. Protesting against it would have seemed odd, leaving me with no other choice but to bear with the arrangement.

"I would speak with you" the elven prince murmured, his expression neutral but his voice wavering.

An icy fear gripped my chest; a fear of being found out, of losing my friend. I cast about for an excuse but could find none. We were in a boat, with nothing in particular to do. Frodo and Sam had moved to the prow and were holding an animated but personal-looking conversation. I sat alone at the oar and a quick scan of the banks brought nothing to view. Our way through the water was clear and unfettered, though we would soon come upon rapids, but as of now our way required little concentration.

"Of course" I said reluctantly, drawing rather forcefully on the oar.

Legolas knelt before me, his azure eyes scanning the dusky boards of our vessel. His brows were brought together and hi lips thinned. I realized with a start that he was hesitating, though for what I didn't know. There was an uncharacteristic uncertainty in his stature that confused me. A cool breeze rushed across our faces as we sat in silence, and it wasn't until it passed that he spoke.

"I fear I have offended you" he said quietly. I drew upright at this and gave him a searching glance, he looked suddenly miserable. "I know not why or how, but I seek to make amends-"

"-Legolas" I said sharply. "What makes you think I am angry with you?

He hesitated again, biting his lip in a way that was positively endearing and absolutely unfair.

"You...you've been distant with me" he said, with the air of one who has resolutely decided to dig his own grave. "I know I've been forward of late, what with arguing with Boromir about our direction. I should not have pressed him so hard, but I do not think-"

"-Legolas" I interrupted once more, feeling violently guilty. "I'm not angry with you."

The elf looked surprised for a minute, then confused.

"But...you've been avoiding me."

I hesitated, caught between my desire to tell the truth, and my knowledge of the disaster that should certainly happen if I did so. I wasn't going to confess to Legolas, not now. I didn't fully understand the extent of my feelings, and I certainly wasn't going to divulge them to him. He would laugh, or think me sick and confused. I wanted neither reaction, so violent was my response to the mere thought of it I felt I might vomit.

"I...I have had much on my mind" I finally confessed. "And much of it I cannot tell you, even if I wanted to."

"You know you can trust in my confidence" Legolas said unhappily. "I won't tell a soul."

"I know you won't" I replied, looking squarely at him. "These thoughts...they are things I do not understand."

"Then let me help you" he said eagerly. "Surely two minds are better than one?"

"They are" I agreed, feeling desperate to shift his attention away and yet not offend him. "But these are matters a man must sort out himself, and confession might bring him shame."

I had said too much-far too much-already, and I was acutely aware of it. My elven friend was no fool, I knew it. Even as his boundless eyes portrayed confusion and hurt, his mind turned to unravel the mystery that was my torment. Never was I more relieved to see the roiling crests of rapids in the distance; heralding our approach to the Sarn Gebirs. Even as I saw them Boromir gave a shout and the Hobbits scrambled back from the prow, effectively ending our conversation. Legolas gave me a resentful look and moved away, stationing himself behind me while Frodo and Sam sat in front. Thought I felt guilty for hurting his feelings, I was glad that we had not gotten to speak further. I was suddenly sure I would have given something away.

Just as we were entering the rapids, a familiar whistling sound filled the air. There was a _***thock***_ on the side of our boat and I shoved the Hobbits down as Legolas simultaneously grunted in pain and slumped over. Arrows began to rain down in earnest and I realized we could not possibly go on under such heavy fire in treacherous waters. Signaling to Boromir to turn about, I began to slowly bring us around. There was the sound of labored breathing behind and I heaved a sigh of relief as I heard the twang of Legolas' bow. It gave me hope that he wasn't badly injured, though a sense of urgency filled me as I considered our options. We couldn't stay in the boats with the orcs on shore; it was too dangerous. One of us was already hurt and the rest would follow if we didn't find shelter. I doubted the orcs would swim the Anduin, it was too deep and swift. I was loathe to go ashore but it seemed the only way. So it was that we made our way to the bank opposite the orcs, our heads bent low.

Suddenly, just as we were about to make ground, a great shadow flew up over us from the South. Its wings seemed the very essence of night and a great blackness of fear filled my heart. It gave a cry that reminded me of the howls of a wight and Frodo moaned in despair. It was as if the hands of a black and evil witch had grasped our throats and rendered us powerless and helpless. I knew not how we would slay it, surely it would swoop down from the air and pick us off one by one. Just when I was convinced all hope was lost, I heard once again the musical discord of Legolas' bow, and the expanse of darkness screamed once more and crashed down into the trees on the opposite bank.

"Mr. Frodo! Mr. Frodo!" Sam was crying, and I realized that the Ringbearer was clutching the spot where the Nazgul had stabbed him as if struck anew. A cold dread filled my heart as I realized what Legolas must have felled, and I swung about to meet his grim expression. My breath caught in my throat as I saw the evil-looking arrow sticking of of his shoulder; funnels of blood dripping 'round the slim fingers that grasped the shaft to hold it steady. The scrape of river-rocks against wood indicated we had finally came ashore, and I leaped from the boat to drag us further onto the bank. Boromir was doing the same beside me whilst Merry and Pipping splashed over to join Sam and Frodo. Assessing the situation with my Healer's expertise, I determined Frodo was shaken and weak but otherwise alright. Turning to tend to Legolas I was surprised and irritated to see that he had already got of the boat himself and was rummaging in his pack with a resolute expression. Unslinging my satchel of herbs I knelt next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He went very still; an indication of resentment and long-upheld discipline to manage pain.

"I do not need your help" he said quietly, cutting his tunic away from the heft of the arrow's shaft.

"Legolas"I sighed, glancing behind me to where Gimli and Boromir were tethering the boats. "Let's not quarrel."

The elven prince snorted; shaving down the fletching in preparation to pull it through. My eyes could not help but be drawn to the soft, pearlescent sheen of his skin in the light of the setting sun. Subtle, lynx-like muscles flexed fluidly as Legolas went about his work. I felt a twinge of despair as I realized I not only loved his heart but wanted his body. Truly, the fantasies I'd entertained of Arwen paled in the face of the rush of desire I felt for Legolas. He was covered in dirt and blood, and furious with me to boot yet I couldn't keep my eyes off of him.

"We never speak anymore, how are we to quarrel?" Legolas snapped, reaching round the back of him to hunt for the tip of the arrow.

"Let me-Legolas! You haven't even numbed-" I began, desperate to stop him from doing something he'd surely regret.

I watched aghast as Legolas yanked the shaft through in one swift movement, his eyes narrowed with pain. His face paled and he looked for a minute that he might be sick. Wordlessly, I handed him a handful of herbs with which to pack the wound, and he took them with an expression of guilt and embarrassment. Hacking the rest of his tunic into strips, I carefully bound the injury, observing that it was a clean puncture; missing any major muscles and arteries.

"I'm sorry" Legolas murmured as I knotted the fabric. "I just...I just don't understand."

I sat back on my heels and observed my handiwork; smiling crookedly.

"I don't really understand myself" I admitted quietly. "But I'm not trying to hurt you mellon-nin."

Legolas sighed resignedly and tossed the remains of the arrow into the Anduin. The sun had fully set, and the others were gathered around a small fire.

"Bless them" he said fondly, eyeing the group with a sentimental eye. "They know better than to interfere in the squabbling of two old men."

"Not that old"I protested good-naturedly.

He smiled mischievously at me and my heart soared while my soul despaired.

"Keep telling yourself that, Estel."

We continued onward then, our quarrel resolved. The next day, Boromir woke us by shoving Minas Tirith down our throats. And though I would have liked to have clouted him, I just didn't have the heart. I checked Legolas' wound and found it halfway-mended, such is the way that elves heal. We made our way back to the Anduin, and set afloat for a long time. I was relieved. I had come to the discovery that I did not have to avoid Legolas to hide my feelings. My will was strong enough to keep me in good disciplines, and as we passed through the Gates of Argonath; my heart felt lighter. And so it was that we came to the Falls of Rauras and led our boats to the base of Amon Hen. Legolas smiled at me from the banks; his locks caught in the diamond-sunlight patterns of the moving water. As Frodo walked into the woods to make his decision, I felt a sense of foreboding and contentment. But I thought it naught, and joined my friend by the water; all too ignorant of Boromir slipping away...and the tremble of Uruk-Hai whispering in the dust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to leave it here for today, but will start up posting again tomorrow. 
> 
> R&R!


	14. Namaarie, Quel Esta, Quel Kaima

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The Fellowship are accosted by Uruk-Hai, Legolas comforts Aragorn in his grief_

"Has anyone seen Boromir?"

Merry's voice cut through the still afternoon air as we sat waiting for the Ringbearer's verdict. Aragorn knelt next to me worrying a crude fishing line he'd fashioned from some twine, a hook, and a poorly looking grasshopper. The air was mild, with a barely-discernible breeze; the rush of the Anduin filled my ears with a tumultuous melody. Somewhere, a meadowlark was trilling a flirtatious tune and I wondered at nature's ability to be so serene and unfettered in such dark times. Still, I could not help but be contagious of the wild's untamed happiness. Aragorn was no longer treating me like some distant acquaintance. I had my friend back little worse for wear, and I could not complain. The past few days had weighed heavily on my heart, and I was glad to put them behind me. Adjusting my sitting position, I took Aragorn's wrist between my finger and thumb; guiding it in a circular motion.

"Keep the line loose but active" I said patiently. "Imitate what the fish see as prey."

He stiffened when I first touched him, and I felt a twinge of sadness. Never before had my friend been uncomfortable with such contact. Now if I merely brushed shoulders with him he went ridged and something would flicker behind his eyes that I couldn't fathom.

"How do you know how to fish if your people don't eat meat?" Aragorn queried, imitating what I had taught him.

"Adar taught me a long time ago" I replied softly. "We sometimes fish for sport but we always return them."

"Oi!" Merry shouted from the bank. "Boromir's gone off, and he said he would spar with us." He gestured to where Pippin stood with their gear; swinging his short sword about in preparation for practice.

I frowned.

"I'm sure he will return" I reassured the Hobbit. "He may want some time to himself."

"Don't we all?" Aragorn muttered.

"I'll spar with you a wee bit" Gimli offered, dousing his pipe and hefting his axe.

I felt a flash of gratitude towards the dwarf. He wasn't so truly awful once you got to know him. I'd been truly ashamed to see him blindfolded in Lorien. It didn't settle well with my soul, no one deserves to be treated as less than another. I'd made an effort since then to treat him as an equal, and he in turn had forgotten our many arguments as if they had never been. My father would have a heart attack if he knew I was friends with a dwarf, but he wasn't around to know it and I didn't let it bother me.

I spent a few minutes watching the trio hack away at each other. Pippin was rather hopeless, though perhaps he would improve with time. Merry showed some promise; perhaps even a natural skill for it. But both had a long way to go as far as I was concerned. I had often questioned Gandalf's logic in allowing so many untrained individuals to join the Fellowship. I had always thought the One Ring would be handed over to someone like Aragorn, who could hold his own and that of others. And yet the old wizard had insisted that it was the little things in life that often brought about the greatest change. I had seen great strength in the Hobbits already, but I despaired to think of what would happen to them in battle. One well-placed blow and you could almost cleave them in half-

-I shook myself, chastising myself for such morbid thoughts. The Fellowship hadn't been formed to fight on the battlefield. Our purpose was to secretly find a way into Mordor and destroy the One Ring; not March upon the Black Gates with the Horn of Gondor blaring. I was sure then that Gandalf never meant for us to go to Gondor. For what would the white city see the Ring as but a means of which to win the war? They would see it as the key to victory, not a cursed item to be destroyed.

A loud splashing brought my attention back to the present. Aragorn it seemed, had caught himself a fish, and a large one at that. The dueling trio had dropped their weapons to splash about with it in the shallows, taking turns dragging it upon shore where it flopped and gleamed with a silvery shine. Great, rainbow colored scales speckled its belly and it was a deep golden color on top with sunshine-colored fins. A good three feet in length; it lay with its mouth gaping; a dark eye staring at the sky above.

"Well done laddie!" Gimli cried. "Aye that'll make a fine meal that will!"

I was accosted with a quickly repressed feeling of disgust; replaced soon after by pity for the great creature. Still, we had traveled hard and I was not one to deny the party a good meal. Aragorn was laughing as he pulled in the rest of the line, his face dotted with river water and his palms rubbed raw from holding on to the line. No, he deserved to have his catch how he wanted it; my elven prejudices against meat be damned.

Suddenly, a great crashing noise in the woods brought me to high alert, and I relaxed only slightly when I saw it was Boromir come back from wherever he'd been. His face was white as snow and his breath came in great gasps. The rest of us looked upon him with concern, for we could see he was not at all himself.

"Boromir" Aragorn said slowly. "Whatever is the matter?"

"I ran into Frodo in the woods" the man replied after much hesitation. "I think I must have scared him, for he ran off."

"But he knows you, Boromir" Pippin said slowly. "He wouldn't run from you-"

"Be silent!" Aragorn snapped, suddenly standing very still and cocking his head as if listening.

Sensing that something was amiss, I too grew quiet and tilted my head. At first, I was aware only of the sounds of the wilderness. Snatches of birdsong wended among the waters while the whisper of trees filled the air with soft murmurings. The bubble of water bespoke joy and the quiet musings of the rocks beneath spoke of hours and years passed without care beneath the depths of the water. And then I heard it. Beneath the bustling that was nature, was the quiet rumble of synchronized footfalls. I felt a cold dread in my chest as I counted many; possibly more than we could defeat. They were not human footsteps, nor the footsteps of light-footed orcs but something much fouler. I met Aragorn's eyes to see an expression of grave resignation.

"We must find Frodo!" Merry was shouting.

Gathering my bearings, I allowed for Aragorn to split us up, watching with apprehension as he disappeared into the trees. Boromir fled with the Hobbits and Gimli and I took yet another route, skirting through the trees.

It was not long before we were accosted by Uruk-Hai in great numbers. As I fired countless arrows and swung my blades I was evermore fearful for the Ringbearer. Gimli was a constant shadow at my back and we guarded each other diligently as we made our way through the fray. Many times there were close calls; such strong foes I had not expected and it took both of us off guard. Sweat poured from my brow as I parried yet another thrust from an evil-looking sword only to step back as Gimli's axe went through the head of the offending creature. It gave one last snarl; black blood spilling onto the earth below, before it crumpled to the ground. I vaguely wondered how long we could continue like this, battling wave after wave of untamed viciousness. It seemed as if it would have no end.

Just as I was considering turning about and beating a retreat the great cry of the Horn of Gondor split the air, giving us pause. Both of us knew what it meant. Boromir would not use such a horn unless he was in dire straights, with no way of escape.

_"Och!"_ Gimli exclaimed, cracking the skull of a short and stumpy orc with the butt of his axe. "Let us be quick about this laddie! Our friend has need of us!"

So it was that with renewed effort we cut our way through the wave of Uruk-Hai. Our haste seemed to make us tireless, and though I was aware of the cost this would have on my body later, I did not tire. And as it is in many times of great haste, time seemed to slow, and it was as if what should have taken a few minutes took hours.

I knew before we set foot in the clearing that we were too late. I could smell death in the air; tangible and tinged with an immense grief. Aragorn knelt before our fallen friend, his face set with the stony resignation of what had come to pass. Tears glittered behind his lashes but he did not let them fall. Boromir looked peaceful, something he had not looked since we had entered into Lorien so long ago. I felt sorry that I had not been able to know him better. Truly, he seemed a great man from a proud family. I was again reminded of the perilousness of our quest. A quietness descended upon us as we lingered there in our grief. Brightly colored leaves fell about us, but they seemed dimmed in the wake of such tragedy. Gimli wept openly, wiping his tears on the heft of his beard. I held myself in good composure, not wanting to show such weakness in the presence of the spirit of such a great man. After a few minutes, Aragorn rose-covering Boromir's face with his cloak- and appeared to steel himself.

"We must make haste" he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Boromir will have a burial, but we have little time to spare."

We made our way back down to the banks with Boromir's body. It is a strange thing; to carry the limp form of one who seemed so alive only hours ago. I half expected our fallen friend to leap from the confines of his cloak and ask why we were all so forlorn. Silly, childish thoughts, really. I had seen enough of death to know no such thing would come to pass, but I hoped it anyway. I suppose some of the willful superstitions of youth fail to leave even the most weathered of all of us. We came upon the banks soon enough, and were just in time to see Frodo and Sam disappearing into the shadows on the opposite side of the river.

"Quick!" Gimli cried. "If we depart now we can still catch them."

"No" Aragorn said harshly. "I will see Boromir is sent off properly before anything else."

I do not think that Boromir would have asked for more. As we watched the figure of the boat disappear over the Falls, I thought it a proper sendoff. Buried in the depths of a river of Kings; little else seemed more fitting. The Anduin would care for him, I was sure of it. Troubled though he had been in his final days, Boromir was a good and honorable man. I was sorry to see him go.

"We must make haste" Gimli was saying. "The Hobbits are far ahead of us by now."

He splashed back to the remaining boat and began tugging at its moorings. Aragorn remained silent and still, and I cast him a curious glance. He refused my gaze but looked straight ahead, to where our friend struggled with the boat.

"You mean to let them go" I murmured, and Gimli ceased his struggles to stare at Aragorn incredulously.

"Frodo is moving on" was my friend's simple reply. "We cannot follow."

"But then the Fellowship is broken!" Gimli protested.

"Not if we remain true to each other" Aragorn countered passionately. "We must pursue the Uruk-Hai who have taken Pippin and Merry." He cast a glance at the remains of our campsite. "Gather only what you absolutely need, leave what you can. We travel swift and light."

I felt a thrill in my heart as I realized we would run. Gimli looked rather ill at the thought of traversing any large distance at considerable speed on foot. Still, we had no horses and the Falls kept us from going any further by boat. We had no notion of what the Uruk-Hai would do to the Halflings once they reached their intended destination, so time was of essence.

I gazed regretfully at the great fish we had abandoned on the bank. It was very still now, and flies gathered about its mouth and gills. We had not the time to cut it up and dry the meat. It was a waste, but an honest waste. Aragorn shuffled among the discarded packs by the bank, dumping out menial things like forks and spoons and scooping up lembas and waterskins. I attended to similar tasks and took it upon myself to smuggle away some pipeweed; for I knew my two companions would be needing it, though they were unlikely to remember it. Soon, we but waited for Gimli, who still hunted for the three locks of hair Galadriel had bestowed upon him during our departure from Lothlorien. Aragorn's eyes searched the trees above us, his expression haunted. I sensed that something more than Boromir's death weighed heavily on his mind. It presented itself in his stature; his slumped shoulders and resigned expression. Glancing around to make sure Gimli was still preoccupied with gathering provisions, I pulled my friend to the side.

"There is more on your mind than Boromir's death" I said quietly. Aragorn raised an eyebrow in stubborn resistance and I sighed. "I know when something ails you" I chided him gently. "Tell me, so I may share your burden."

"Boromir tried to take the Ring from Frodo" Aragorn muttered after a minute's hesitation.

I gasped.

"But he did not succeed?"

"Nay, something merciful in him relented at the last moment and gave Frodo a chance to escape." Aragorn drew a deep breath and then went on. "I came upon him, and he offered me the Ring."

I looked upon him gently.

"But you did not take it" I pointed out.

"I learned that I am not Isildur" he said simply. "But I will not lie and say the temptation was not great."

"That is why you let Frodo go" I said sagely. "You knew the Ring would eventually consume all of us."

"I did not know it" he said humbly. "But I expected it, and I am not willing to take that chance." He smiled wryly. "Hobbits are made of stern stuff, perhaps stronger even than you or I. If anyone can get the Ring to Mordor, Frodo can." We were silent for a while, watching the stillness of the water; a stark contrast to the tumultuous despair in our hearts. "Did you know he called me his King?" Aragorn whispered.

"That was brave of him" I murmured, putting a hand on my friend's shoulder.

_"Ai_ Legolas!" my friend exclaimed, his voice thick with unshed tears. " 'Twas selfless and almost silly. How can I be King when I cannot keep my people alive?"

"Do not say that" I said urgently, turning him to face me. Stormy grey eyes stared into mine in a soundless torment; their depths pleading with me to make sense of it all. "You will be a good King, and you are a good man."

He smiled weakly, and bent his head to touch our foreheads together. I froze, shocked by the intimate gesture.

_"Cormlle naa tanya tel'raa"_ he murmured. "Would I have half that faith that you have."

_"Amin dele ten' le"_ I replied breathlessly.

Gimli came up to us then, hefting his axe from where he had left it leaning against a tree and giving us a hairy look that was soon followed by a shrug. We drew apart and fell silent as we all wordlessly prepared for the journey ahead. We burned or buried whatever we could not take. It was unlikely we would be tracked, but one can never be too careful. I watched as Aragorn skirted the edges of the woods, occasionally pausing to gather an herb he recognized. His form was lithe but his shoulders were bent with weariness. I worried for his resilience in the days to come but gave no voice to my fears, they wouldn't do anyone any good. After ten minutes we grew impatient to be off and began at a swift but steady jog. As we raced across the landscape I grieved for our fallen friend, and the separation of the Fellowship. Still, Aragorn was right about staying true to each other; so as we came upon the land of the Horse Lords I took heart, and set my eyes on the days that were to come. Behind us, it seemed the Horn of Gondor echoed mournfully for what had come to pass; a single song of desperate sorrow lost on the breeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title Translation**  
>  Farewell, rest well, sleep well
> 
> **General Translations**  
>  "Cormlle naa tanya tel'raa"-"You have the heart of a lion."
> 
> "Amin dele ten' le"-"I'm worried about you."


	15. Rima!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Gimli, Aragorn, and Legolas traverse the vast plains of the Rohirrim._

When I was young, my father liked to take me down to the archery fields.

I would sit while he practiced, watching his face grow still and placid in his concentration. I thought him part of the bow, and that when he fired they were one with one another, true to their aim. The sound of the arrowhead hitting the target made my heart flutter, and the whistle of wind through the fletching was a secret and subtle message from the Valar themselves. I thought my father a King before I could truly grasp the concept of what it was. I was in awe of him, and all his superior graces.

When he had finished his practicing, he would bid me to race him to the edge of the gates at the caverns. He let me win, of course, but ever do I remember the exhilaration of the wind on my face and my legs carrying me in youthful passions to nowhere in particular. When I made it to the caverns he would come up behind me and throw me into the air, to the disgust of my grandfather Oropher. Elflings were apparently not made to be tossed about, but that was in better times, before my Nana left and my Adar grew bitter.

So it was that I ran across the Plains of the Rohirrim, abandoned to my own freedom and purpose. I was struck by how different it was, to race across an endless expanse than to sprint the short distance to the Cavern gates. All my senses were alive; I was under sunlight and moonlight as far as the eye could see. My heart sang for the unbridled nature that surrounded us. It seemed as if the earth thundered through every vein and lit them up with virility and elation. I was unfettered and unhindered, all that was before gave way to the boundless happiness of spirit.

I am not ashamed to admit that I forgot my companions in all of my charging about. We elves are prone to deliriousness when in nature, as a certain grumpy dwarf liked to point out. Gimli wailed the injustice of it all at our backs while Aragorn determinedly kept pace, never attempting to surpass me. I felt even more overjoyed that I should enjoy this chase with friends about me, though I did not lose sight of the urgency in our purpose. We ran until one particular evening, when Aragorn apparently decided that we needed a rest. He came to an abrupt stop at the edge of a grassy knoll and threw his pack to the ground.

"I'll have a word with whoever made these hillocks so rocky!" came Gimli's voice from a distance behind us. "There's no sense in it! By the breadth of my beard, if I see another forsaken rabbit-"

"Gimli's not taken well to the plains" Aragorn said amusedly, shielding his eyes as he looked back. He gave me an amused look. "I think you're enjoying yourself too much, _mellon-nin."_

"I enjoy running" I replied, shuffling my feet in anticipation. "Are we waiting for Gimli?"

"No, we shall rest here for the night" Aragorn said, an air of exhaustion creeping into his voice for the first time. "Not all of us have the stamina of the immortal."

He sat and drew out his pipe, grinning lopsidedly at my disgusted glare. I dropped to the balls of my feet and began shifting through my pack. Gimli came puffing up to us a short time later, threw himself onto the ground, and began to snore. I made a sound of derision and went to gaze upon the path ahead. My eyes swept hungrily over the sleek tufts of grass as far as the eye could see. Green gave way to a brilliant evening sky exploding with hues of orange, gold, pink and red. A soft breeze ruffled across my face, bringing with it the subtle smells of the expanse before and behind.

"I fear your enthusiasm for all things natural will have us dogging your footsteps until we overtake those cursed Uruk-Hai."

I turned and smirked at Aragorn, who cocked an eyebrow and folded his arms.

"I cannot help it if you are slow" I said crossly.

He threw back his head and laughed. Feeling petulant, I stayed quiet, preferring to stare contemplatively at a caterpillar overtaking the toe of my shoe.

"If I had your endurance, I suppose I would feel relentless and unstoppable as well" he said idly, watching as I picked the offending insect off my shoe and placed it under an outcropping of rock.

"Immortal I may be" I agreed. "Unstoppable I am not."

"Does it ever bother you?" he said quietly.

I paused, turning away from my bug-minding to look intently at him.

"Immortality?" I asked, and he nodded. I sighed. "At times. Ever have the most beautiful things been perishable. Many think my kind are ethereal and untouchable." I sat down on the grass and he joined me. "A flower may bloom and die, only to be replaced by another. Likewise, humans die and their names are remembered through their children and grandchildren. We are remembered for our longevity and wisdom, but I often wonder what cost it brings us, to live forever and only wish for the world as it was."

"Like Thranduil" he said shrewdly, and I smiled bitterly.

"I could tell you of many days my father has spent reminiscing of the glory of days that have passed. I fear though we live long, we live in the hope that things will return to the way they once were, not progress as all things must." I looked down at the grass beneath me. "And so many of us sail from these shores, seeking solace in the Halls of Mandos where they can find none here."

"Do you think you will ever sail?"

I was silent, caught off guard by his question. I had never really considered it myself, though I knew it was a choice I would have to make at some point. My father would certainly sail, and I suspected sooner than later. At that time it would be my responsibility to care for the Greenwood, and in time, bring forth an heir or choose a successor among my people. I knew that once our quest had ended, I would be expected to return to my normal duties. A prince does not shirk his responsibilities forever. But the act of sailing had never occurred to me, nor did it attract me.

"I have not felt the call of the sea" I admitted. "Though that is not to say that I will not. There is much for me to attend to here." I smiled wryly. "If this quest wasn't so urgent, I would tell you this was my last taste of freedom, before I take my place as ruler of Mirkwood."

"You think your father would step down so soon?"

"My father is old, he is tired and he misses my mother. I cannot fault him for his sealonging."

We were silent after that, a melancholy cloud coming to hang between us. I was struck again by how odd it was to acknowledge our Fates in the midst of such dark times. I didn't often dwell on it, as it left me with a feeling of bondage, but it could not be avoided forever. I would be sad to see my father go, and loathe to take his place on the throne, but it had to be done. Someday, the antlered throne would be empty of him, and I would sit in his place. I shuddered and drew a piece of lembas from my pouch, taking a small bite before tucking it away again.

"Someday, you will rule a Kingdom too" I reminded Aragorn gently.

He made a noncommittal noise and began rummaging around for his pipe again. Gimli had got a small fire going with our spare kindling and was roasting one of the offending rabbits he had spotted. We joined him, and I pushed the melancholy discussion to the back of my mind. Soon, my two companions were laughing over an off-color tavern joke; their meal eaten and carefully buried to ward off scavengers. We sat around the fire in warm companionship and I savored the moment, knowing it was rare and that I would have little of it once I returned to my duties in the Greenwwood.

"My cousin's children are fond of honeycakes" Aragorn was saying indulgently. Gimli leaned over to stoke the fire, a placid expression on his gruff face. "I once caught them in the larder before a feast, they had eaten all of them and I was hard-pressed to explain to their mother why they were so sick."

"Ah! That is nothing!" the dwarf exclaimed, waving his hand. "A dwarfling will eat a mutton pie if you let him! My uncle has a wee one who likes to peek under the ladies' skirts! He once peeped under a grumpy cheiftess's ceremonial robe and got a kick in the rear end! Och! My Uncle was furious but I think he got what he deserved!"

"What do dwarflings look like?" Aragorn asked, seeming to ask himself more than the dwarf beside him.

"They are small!" Gimli said, nodding his head enthusiastically. "But by the age of three a proper dwarfling can pick up an axe twice their size and split wood!"

"What nonsense!" I protested. "I couldn't pick up my Adar's sword by that age, and elves are just as strong as dwarves."

"Obviously not!" Gimli growled, giving me a mutinous look. "I bet your Da coddled you to the ends of time-" Aragorn gave an ungracious snort "-wrapped you up in gold silks and wouldn't let a weapon with in a hundred paces of you-"

"-That's enough of that" Aragorn cut in hastily, giving us each meaningful looks.

"My father was a notorious flirt in his youthful days" I mused, choosing to forget the petty argument.

Aragorn gave me incredulous look.

"Thranduil?" he exclaimed, and I nodded sagely.

"According to his nursemaid, who was also mine. Oh, he never followed through in any of his endeavors, but he had a veritable sea of female admirers. My mother was the only one who didn't pay him any mind. So of course, she was the one he wanted to keep." I purse my lips. "And now he is a grumpy old elf."

"Someday you will be a grumpy old elf" Aragorn said slyly.

"Perish the thought!" I exclaimed, brandishing an arrow I was fletching. "I shall never be as recalcitrant."

We took our rest then; though I spent more time gazing at the stars than anything else. Out on the open plains they blazed like so many fiery torches, lighting up the night sky in an ethereal shower of shimmering fire. The moon was high and full, turning the gently nodding fronds of grass a ghostly silver. I watched contemplatively as a meadow-mole dug out a burrow in a rocky overhang; its starry nose pushing away at the dirt while its back legs propelled soil into the air. The soft song of crickets filled the darkness, chirruping a midnight melody for those that would hear. Despite the exhilaration of the chase, I was glad for a moment of respite; it allowed me to center myself. Very rarely do I allow myself to relax so completely in the wild, but I was given a sense of relaxation I had felt nowhere else. I knew we would not be accosted that night, so I gave myself over to serenity.

We rose early the next day, and broke our fast in silence. The morning light was a foreboding red heralding death, though for whom I couldn't be certain. Crystalline droplets of dew hung from the scattered rocks around us, throwing back the rays of the scarlet sun in a kaleidoscope of color. Unspoken, we broke into the same swift pace we had sustained the day we started out. Soon, I was once again enamored of the earth and the sky as we sped across it.

It was well into late morning when we came to the top of a hillock and Aragorn stopped dead, listening intently to what was around us. His grey eyes were narrowed in concentration as I too focused on the noise of our surroundings. Slowly, the sound of hoof beats reached my ears, just as Aragorn gestured wildly for us to hide behind an outcropping of rock. Gimli barely made it without being trampled as hundreds of riders came pounding over the rise. For moment we were still, waiting anxiously for the multitude of horsemen to pass. Then, to my astonishment, Aragorn threw himself out from behind the rock and hailed them.

"Is he trying to get us all killed?" Gimli growled as the massive company swung about.

I myself had serious doubts as the grim-faced riders encircled us. Their faces spoke of hardship, betrayal, and mistrust. These were seasoned warriors who had seen little mercy, and as we learned, their own King had thrown them out to fend for themselves in the wild. Even as I defended Gimli I was struck by the untamed ferocity of their defense. I knew a great tragedy had hardened their hearts and made them suspicious of any unusual circumstance. Eomer cautioned us about Saruman, his eyes glittering with a wild despair that made me cold inside. Such evil worked these lands! It turned a Ruler against his own defenders, and cast his plains into a somber sorrow. Who in their right mind would send away their army in favor of the whispering promises of a corrupted Maiar?

So it was with greater despair that we learned of the fate of the Uruk-hai, and of what could possibly have happened to our friends. My heart despaired as we looked to the pillar of smoke that roiled in the distance. Eomer, in his sincere guilt, offered us Hasufel and Arod but no gift could assuage the monstrous possibility that we had allowed our friends to be slaughtered mercilessly. I wanted to put an arrow through Eomer's eye for failing to recognize two innocents, but I knew that he only did what he thought was right in order to protect his people. With heavy hearts, we watched the Rohirrim ride away, turning our steeds toward the billowing cloud of smoke. Aragorn's face was devoid of emotion, but I saw the turmoil that roiled just beneath the surface in his eyes. I knew in an instant that if Merry and Pippin had perished he would take the blame upon himself, along with his guilt of Boromir's death. I too felt a great measure of responsibility for the Halflings, but I also knew that despite what lay ahead we must form some sort of plan of what to do next. I worried that Aragorn would not be able to make such decisions should our friends have fallen, and without him we would be lost.

"I think we ought to be strong for the poor lad" came Gimli's voice at my back, and I smiled sadly.

"Aye, my friend, we shall have to comfort him in his grief."

"I appreciate what you did back there" the dwarf added, a tone of discomfort in his voice. "You didn't have to do that."

"I would defend any friend of mine when threatened" I replied, shaking Arod's reigns.

We fell silent after that, too lost in our morbid worries to converse any further. The sky overhead darkened as we drew closer to the carnage. I remembered the bloody omen I had seen in the sky that morning and ground my teeth. It does no good to ignore the warnings of nature, I should have been better prepared, but I was not. Instead, my heart beat in my throat and my hands slipped as we guided our steeds to what seemed like imminent failure. And so it was that we came upon the ruin of the Uruk-Hai, with a new sense of friendship and profound fear that seemed to come from the depths of the earth itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title Translation**
> 
> Rima!-Run!


	16. Vanya Sulie, Quel Fara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Our trio encounters a friend in Fangorn._

It is a strange thing to look upon a pile of burning carcasses and think that perhaps your friends are among them. There are mixed feelngs of guilt and desperation, along with a terrible anger and a sense of loss. When Gimli found one of the Hobbit's belts; it was as if someone had dashed me across the face with the blunt edge of a sword. The grief was staggering, incomprehensible and fierce. Aragorn let out a cry that startled the birds in the branches looming over us into a frenzy. I felt a sudden urge to go to him but held myself back, murmuring a prayer that I only half-believed under my breath. The freezing air seemed to grow colder still in our misery, but I didn't care to rectify my discomfort, it seemed a petty thing in the face of such loss. We hadn't come here to weep over the corpses of our fallen friends, we had come to rescue them. The Uruk-Hai should not have been able to out-run us, but the strong willed Rohirrim had beat us to our vengeance and now there was naught but fire and ash.

And then, when it seemed that all hope was lost, Aragorn discovered that the Hobbits had escaped. Through what stroke of luck or silly chance they had cut their bonds and freed themselves from their captors. The relief I felt was surreal, it seemed such an impossible thing. So sure had we been that our friends had been slain mercilessly and without care. And yet as I gazed upon the evidence Aragorn presented to us, I knew it to be true.

"Their footsteps lead up the hill, away from the battle" Aragorn said, tracing the path with unerring skill. "...And into Fangorn Forest."

We stood still then, gazing at the ominous wall of trees before us. I had heard tales of such a place in my youth. Indeed, Fangorn was not regarded as an evil place in better times, but a forest of wonder and magic. The stories of old said it was once a garden for one of the Valar, a place of solace and comfort. Even now, with the malice that vibrated from every limb of every tree, I could sense the vitality and consciousness within. It was as if it was a living, breathing thing with many separate minds, all turned to the purpose of survival and secrecy. I sensed not a threat but a great guardedness and fear. It would be a lie to say that the forests of Middle Earth have been treated kindly. Too often are Men prone to chopping them up and using them for menial things. To invade the territory of that which is virile and wise is a terrible crime.

"Fangorn" Gimli growled from beside me. "What madness drove them in there?"

We wasted no time in lingering near the pile of dead Uruk-Hai. We were all-too-aware of what attention such chaos could bring, and wanted to be far away from any kind of curious investigating. Aragorn led the way, taking care to walk amidst and not on any roots. I felt a rush of affection for his obvious care; so good was my friend to be conscious of that which grows. Gimli brought up the rear with his axe held high, which made me cringe. I couldn't stand the thought of correcting him, as it might have started a noisy argument.

In truth, Fangorn was hauntingly beautiful. Thick, green tree trunks sprawled as far as the eye could see in tangles of massive roots. The trees twisted up to explode into a magnificent emerald canopy reaching towards the sky. So dense was the forest that it felt as if we were in a magnificent hall made entirely of foliage; flowing forever and yon. Rays of sunlight that struck ground underneath the dazzling canopy glowed an ethereal chartreuse, sending motes of golden dust swirling through the air in fantastic waves.

"Dwarves aren't meant to be tromping around in forests!" Gimli blustered. "We're meant for mines, and caves full of mithril!" An ominous, groaning creak made him jump. "Even the trees know I don't belong here!"

"They might jump out of the ground and string you up" I said in a hushed voice.

"Do not say idle things in woods such as these" Aragorn muttered darkly. "Gimli, lower your axe."

We plodded on, despite the cold inhospitality of the place. Aragorn kept his eyes to the ground, scanning for any sign that our friends had passed that way. I had my own proclivities when it came to tracking, but I trusted my friend's judgement far more than my own. He had been about in the world far more often, and understood the niceties of keeping a trail. So we continued behind him, keeping a respectful distance away so he would not be distracted. I immersed myself in the conversation of the trees; soaking up their grumblings of discontent and irritability. I'd never encountered a place where the voices of the trees were so distinct and distinguishable from one another, it was as if each had its own personality and spirit.

"These are strange tracks" Aragorn muttered, pulling up short.

Peering around him, I inhaled sharply. The tracks he spoke of were of no animal I had ever heard of. They were immense, with deep scores in the ground. I noted that whatever it was had taken great care not to damage any trees, despite its obvious size. I had heard tales of oliphaunts to the South, and that a grown man could sit in one of their footprints without touching the edges. But this was no place for such a creature, and it would have no care for protecting its surroundings. We puzzled over the tracks for a while, for it was here that the Hobbit tracks ended. All of us toyed with the fact that some creature from the deeps had risen up and swept them away, but something deep inside us seemed to say otherwise. Aragorn had taken out a small piece of parchment with which to sketch and Gimli was examining the great, earthy indentations with a look of fascination. Perusing the area further I discovered the squashed remains of an orc; its black blood seeped into the earth below, giving off a horrible stench. I shivered at the amount of force that must have been put behind the massive blow.

After a great amount of time, when all of us had nearly made up our minds to follow the great tracks, a shiver ran up my spine. I was instantly aware that we were not alone, we were intently watched, though I could not say whether the intent was malicious or not. I was accosted by a sense of great power and longevity. The air seemed to grow dense, much like when rain is about to fall. I at once felt suffocated yet strangely ethereal; as if I was having an out of body experience. None of the others seemed to be having the same sensations as I, though the change in atmosphere did not go unnoticed. Aragorn had stiffened and was looking around intently, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

"There's something out there" he hissed.

Gimli, who had been idly examining the fallen orc, drew his ax immediately, his beard twitching in anticipation.

"What is it?" I whispered, fitting an arrow to my bow and shoving my discomfort the back of my mind.

"I have not felt a power of this caliber since Gandalf fell" Aragorn replied tightly. "It must be Saruman."

"A dark wizard" Gimli growled. "We must strike him down!"

A shadow moved before us now, and it seemed neither material or immaterial. It was hard to look at it, though it had the look of an old man bent over in rags. I was not deceived, we had been told Saruman often took the shape of an old man. These woods were near his stronghold, we had not come unprepared. Still, I wondered how we might defeat him, as I had never heard of a way to defeat a wizard. They were, of course, not invulnerable. Gandalf's death had shown us that. But there were no cliffs we could conveniently split in twain, if we could even do such a thing. No, it would take cunning and no small amount of luck to defeat Saruman, of that I was sure.

"We must be swift" Aragorn said darkly, gripping his sword. "Do not let him speak, he will put a spell on us."

At his signal, we all leapt forward at once, bent on a swift and fatal attack. I gasped as the aim I had so painstakingly fixed on the target flew wide, sending the arrow a far cry to the right. Gimli's axe was seemingly yanked from his hand; dashed to the ground with a force I could not reckon. Aragorn gave a great shout as the handle of his sword glowed hotly until he released it. We stood there in a grim silence, weaponless and helpless before what I was sure was some great evil. The cloaked figure remained still, shrouded in a mysterious light that we could not fully see through.

"You are tracking two Hobbits" came a familiar voice through the veil. "I think you will be pleased to know they are alive and well, and in good hands."

So it was when Aragorn demanded the cloaked figure reveal himself, that Gandalf the Grey emerged as Gandalf the White. We rejoiced, for we had thought our friend truly dead and gone. The story of his fight with the Balrog captivated me and left me breathless. And to think that the Valar had sent him back! It was truly a blessing from Illuvatar. We informed Gandalf of all that had gone to pass in his absence, though he seemed to know a great deal more about Merry and Pippin than we was sorry to hear about Boromir, but admitted to having his doubts about the proud warrior. Still, he felt it was not his place to deny Gondor its involvement in the quest. He took his turn-as we all had-in reassuring Aragorn that it was not his fault, and that no one could have foreseen such ill events. We were glad to know our friends were safe, and though we pressed him for answers, Gandalf was mysteriously quiet about what exactly they were doing.

We made our way out of Fangorn, and I bid the beautiful trees a melancholy secrets of places of old are not easily divuldged, and I was loathe to leave without learning any of them. There was a certainty in my heart that told me I wouldn't see the great forest again. I would have liked to stay there longer and talked a while. When I voiced this aloud Gimli said I was as mad as a cave pigeon and wouldn't hear anything more of it. I looked upon Shadowfax with awe, never had I met one of the famed horses of old and I felt privileged to be in his presence. Rarely do the Mearas consent to ride with any but their own kind. It was a great statement as to Gandalf's status and the respect he garnered from it. We set out across the plains of Rohan with the wind at our backs; riding hard towards Edoras and the looming peril that dwelt there.

Though the days on the road were hard, we pressed on. I could only imagine how tired Gimli and Aragorn were from days of running, and now riding. Neither of them complained, and I felt it might insult them if I inquired after their health. Gandalf seemed even more enthusiastic than me, and though we traded many tales over the long ride we did not speak too much of what lay ahead. The plains seem to slip out from underneath the horses' hooves and the sapphire skies above us blazed with the cold strength of the men who had dwelt here for hundreds of years. The spirit of the land was reflected in its peopole, I had seen it in the wild and steadfast eyes of Eomer's company. Much like the elves are one with the wood, the people of Rohan were one with their plains.

We reached Edoras in mid-afternoon, our horses lathered with sweat. No one came out to greet us. Most who saw us coming bolted away or formed lines outside of houses to give us suspicious and unwelcoming glares. Barefoot children clung to their mothers' skirts with tear tracks on their dirt-streaked faces. I sensed hunger, unrest, and unhappiness. Though I had never been to the place before, I saw snatches of what was once a beautiful city. Here and there a fountain lay overcome with growth, and little boarded up shops still glowed with quaint thatching and smooth riverstones. People eyed Gimli and I with equal parts dislike and fear. A part of me understood their apprehension; we were not of their race and came to their land unbidden. Much as my father scorned the dwarves, so these townsfolk scorned us.

The guard came out to meet us, and told us that no one was welcome in Edoras in times of war, by order of Grima Wormtongue. The name seemed to enrage Gandalf, who demanded an audience with the King. Aragorn, Gimli, and I drew back as the wizard and what I suppose was the Captain of whatever was left of the guard began a heated argument. Aragorn gave me a resigned glance and I shrugged in response. Something tugged at the quiver at my back and I looked down. A little boy with a head full of curls was taking turns with his fair-haired sister to make swipes at my quiver. Neither of them could have been older than four, and they went barefoot with patches in their miniature clothing.

"Hello" I said softly.

They stopped for a minute, and twin expressions of fear crossed their faces. I tried to smile in a way that seemed encouraging, and while the girl shrank back into her brother, he stepped forward and looked me squarely in the eyes with a shrewd expression.

"Yous an elf" he said flatly, I nodded.

"Yes I am" I replied cheerfully. "And you are a human."

"My da says elves are never up to any good" he replied seriously.

I knelt down so that I was eye level with him and he drew back a little, but did not flee. His sister crouched behind him, looking like a stunned rabbit.

"Well then I'd think your father very right" I whispered conspiratorially. "Do you know...I'm _always_ in my father's larder stealing apples."

The boy grinned then and his sister stepped forward with a bright and curious expression.

"M'names Gleothain" the little boy said. "An' this is Leofwyn."

"My name is Legolas" I replied, bowing my head to Leofwyn, who giggled. I leaned closer. "Do you want to know a secret?" They both nodded and listened eagerly. "That man, over there" I jerked my thumb at Aragon. "When he was little, he used to eat a whole round of cheese in one sitting."

"But he's so dirty!" Leofwyn protested.

"You do not need to be clean to eat cheese" I replied seriously. "I am very dirty too."

"But youse not eating any cheese" Leofwyn said seriously. She tilted her head to gaze at me sideways a while, then reached her tiny fingers out. "Can I pet your hair?"

"You may" I said cheerfully. "But I should warn you, if you pull it too hard it will fall out."

"I'll be gentle" she whispered, a tiny finger winding in one of my locks. "Oh! It's so soft! Like butter!"

"You shouldn't be playin' in his hair-" Gelothain began sternly.

"-Leofwyn! Gleothain!" a shrill voice cut across the courtyard where we stood. A harried looking woman came rushing up to us, a fearful expression on her face. "Get away from him!"

"But Mama!" Gleothain protested as his mother grasped him roughly by the arm. Leoflyn shot me a smile and let her self be led away. "He was just-"

"-What would your da say?! Talking to an elf! For shame!"

I knew she meant well, truly. But it still left a tight feeling in my chest to see such hatred for my kind. I was again struck by how needless Gimli and I's quarreling had been. There was enough hate for our kind in the world without us despising each other. With a heavy heart I stood and came face to face with Aragorn, who was looking at me with an expression that made my knees weak. It was a sympathy and a tenderness that I couldn't fathom and didn't understand. I flushed and looked at my boots. Gimli came up and clapped me on the shoulder.

"Don't take it too hard laddie. They'll remember you treated them kindly."

"They certainly will" Gandalf said gruffly, having evidently come to some agreement with the guard. "Come, up these infernal steps we go."

In the end, I could not help but pity Theodin his coercion. The madness I saw in his eyes was wrought by Saruman, greater men have fallen in the face of such deception. I felt only joy to see such an evil cast out. The weight of evil removed is considerably akin to throwing aside a heavy load. And so Grima Wormtongue fled Rohan, in fear of King Theoden's wrath. Despite our hardships, it was good to see a positive deed done at the end of the day. So as we settled in Edoras come evening;I saw the possibility of hope under the weight of much sorrow; and I also saw how Eowyn looked at Aragorn. But I told myself it bothered me not at all.

What an awful lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title Translations**  
>  Fair Winds, Good Hunting


	17. The Love Of A Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Aragorn fends off advances from the White Flower of Rohan. Legolas is subtly-not-so-subtly jealous._

Whenever I consider the city of Edoras, the words 'quaint' and 'rustic' are the first to come to mind. The people of Rohan have long lived from the harsh berth of the plains, ever accustomed to hardship and struggle. Descended from the Eotheod, the men referred to themselves as the Eorlingas, and held their pride and dignity in high regard. Once a people that lived near the Anduin, they removed to the plains when it was given to them by Cirion as a gift for their assistance at the Battle of the Field of Celebrant. I considered them as much related to me as the men in Gondor, since they likely were from the First Age. Boromir had spoken of the Rohirrim with an air of disdain, as if they were lesser than some, and I hadn't liked it. Nevertheless, I felt honored to be among such men, with fabled history and vivacious upbringing.

Theodin bid me sit next to him during dinner, after Grima had fled. We sat at a great table, with candle-lit fixtures hanging over head and casting shadows over the faces among us. Gandalf took the seat on the King's other side and Legolas and Gimli sat across from me. Eowyn sat to my left, and quickly engaged me in conversation. I found my spirit uplifted at her obvious relief in having her father returned, but sensed also her grief for the loss of her brother. She reminded me of Arwen, if she were more brazen and bold. I was both impressed and a little intimidated by her, if I am to be truly honest. The daughter of Theoden wasted no time in telling me of her views on the duties of women, and how she felt there was so much more she could and should be doing. I sympathized with her feelings of incarceration, as I myself was often struck with a feeling of derision when reminded of my future duties. However, I was darkly resigned to the reality of my future where'st Eowyn vehemently appeared to reject it. It disturbed me that anyone could feel a virulent hatred to that which they were bound to, but I felt I didn't have the right to correct her. She was hurt and relieved, greiving and rejoicing at once; only a fool would criticize the logic of someone in such a tempestuous emotional state. When she wasn't talking to me, the White Flower of Rohan was doting over her father, and my heart warmed to see it. No matter how much she groused over her womanly duties, she was the perfect daughter in every aspect. Theoden spared her none of his affection, and it was good to see a solid and stable familial love in such dark times.

"Our focus now is to drive Saruman from our lands entirely" Theoden said gruffly, spearing a piece of fruit as if it had gravely offended him. "I will not tolerate his presence in Rohan."

"I do not think you will have to take the battle to Saruman" Gandalf replied sagely, puffing on his pipe.

"You think there will be an attack here?" Eowyn pressed. "That the white wizard will bring his armies to our land?"

"If he has not already, he will soon" I said grimly. "Now that he no longer has hold of the King with Wormtongue, he will do what he can to ensure his continued possession of the Plains."

"Then Rohan must be ready" Theoden said grimly.

The conversation turned to politics after that. Though we all were aware of the looming danger Saruman posed, there was still a necessity to discuss the affairs of Rohan. Theoden was aggrieved by the dissension between his the farmers in different areas of the plains. There was some concern over a territorial dispute, the land was more workable in some areas than others and a high crop meant good pay. Others blamed their King for the increased presence of wargs in the area. They blamed him for lack of patrols, and the wargs tended to attack livestock and young children. They were hard to flush out once they'd established near a settlement, being cleverer than wolves and much more aggressive. Though not necessarily common in the Plains, they were being forced out of nearby areas due to increased orc activity. I knew from darker times that Sauron's minions tended to steal their young and train them for battle, which they didn't necessarily like but couldn't do anything about. Warg nests were commonly unguarded when the adults went out hunting, so stealing the young posed little to no threat. Theoden then went on to lament over the structure of the olden days, when the caste system was less convoluted and the settlements closer together. He told us of times when no one worried of infertile lands or bands of orcs.

"I find father's reminiscence terribly dull" Eowyn whispered in my ear. Her blue eyes glimmered in the candlelight and I was reminded of Legolas. "Do you know, we could spend all night wishing for a time that once was, but we can't turn back and undo what has been done."

Her lips were a few inches from my face, and I could feel her breathe ghosting across my cheeks. The gesture was intimate, and I knew she expected me to flirt in turn, but I found myself ungratified by her attentions. Beautiful she was, but she was not who I loved, and I barely knew her. To present herself to me in so forward a fashion was off-putting. I knew not how I would reject her, but I was loathe to do it in front of a table full of people. For the time being, I resigned myself to her invasion of my personal space, and tried to remain polite and tolerant as she spoke of her distaste for nostalgia. Occasionally, she would let her arm brush against mine, or allow our fingers to touch when we reached for something on the table. Each time she would apologize, but something in her eyes would tell me she was far from sorry.

"You mustn't trouble over old men and their wishing of ways that once were" Legolas said loudly across the table. Theoden, engrossed in a telling of the brilliant banners of Breothain in his childhood, did not hear him. "My father 'oft rambles about the woes of the times himself."

Unused to my elven friend being so brash, I frowned across the expanse before us only to meet bleary aqua eyes. I realized Legolas was not a little bit angry, and perhaps rather drunk, which threw me off in my reply. Something must have truly upset him to allow him to take leave of his senses so completely. Gimli looked shocked at my elven friend's outburst, but buried himself in a mug of ale to hide his surprise. Eowyn, however, seemed to understand more than either of us, and her eyes had turned steely during his brief outburst. To my sincere woe, she leaned closer to me and tilted her head.

"What do you know of the changing times, Son of Thranduil?" she said cooly. "Locked away in the caves of your father, I rather think you'd know nothing but the steady drip of water and stone."

I paled and opened my mouth to speak. Gimli was fair drowning himself in his mug, Gandalf was watching the whole affair with a raised brow. Legolas turned a light pink-which would have been utterly endearing if he wasn't so angry-and his hands clenched into fists.

"How dare you speak to me as if you know me" he snapped. "You know little of the world yourself I see, hanging off a man you barely know who is newly 'trothed. It speaks volumes to your character."

"Legolas-" I began glaringly.

"Did you know that I used to own a mare with a limp?" Theoden said, his voice breaking the tense silence. He appeared oblivious to the heated argument, his gaze directed at a disgruntled looking adviser. "She was a gift from my father and passed away at a ripe old age."

"Too bad some of us can't all pass away at a ripe old age" Eowyn said scathingly, throwing a fiery glance at Legolas.

"But whatever do you mean my darling?" Theoden asked curiously.

"If you'll excuse me, Your Majesty" Legolas said, scraping back his chair. "I find myself in need of some fresh air."

"But of course" the King said graciously. "It's been a pleasure."

Legolas murmured something indulgent in response and fair stumbled out of the dining hall. I tried not to ruminate over the fact that he was just as glorious intoxicated as he was sober, and avoided Eowyn's triumphant gaze with a feeling of disgust. I shouldn't have let her bait my friend, but it wasn't my place to order about princesses. Maybe one day, but not today. Today, I was Aragorn, Ranger of the North and that was all Theodin knew of me. To tell off his daughter would be nothing short of slander, and I couldn't afford to jeopardize our position here. Still, through the rest of the evening I was fair itching to get away from the table and find my friend. I wanted desperately to apologize and the more the conversation dragged on, the more I feared that I'd lose the chance before morning. It wasn't until the candles had fair burned out in their brackets and the torches were sputtering that Theodin dismissed the gathering. Gandalf retired to his rooms, and Theodin left with a troop of advisers. Eowyn stood in one fluid movement and moved closer to me, her blue eyes glittering.

"Will you join me for a walk?" she pressed. "I'd so love to show you the stars of the Plains at night."

_"I bet you would"_ I thought grimly.

"I'm sorry my lady" I replied, bowing low. "But Gimli and I have much to discuss." I shot a surreptitious glance at the dwarf who rustled up a hearty assent. She looked downtrodden but not dissuaded. "Maybe another time."

"Of course" Eowyn replied, smiling. "I'll hold you to it."

With that she swept out of the hall.

"She certainly will" Gimli growled when she was out of earshot. "I've not seen a lady so keen on a man since I was out of my homeland!"

I sat down with a weary sigh and stretched my legs out under the table.

"Was she as forward as a dwarven lady?" I asked drily.

"By Balin's Burly Beard no!" Gimli scoffed. "If she was a dwarven lass, she'd have thrown you under the table and had her way!" I shuddered. "Now, I know you didn't refuse the girl because you wanted to talk to me" the dwarf growled. "Go and find that air-headed elf and fix whatever's wrong between you." He took a hearty gulp of ale and waved his mug. "I don't care if you have to stick holes in one another to do it, just get it done!"

With a wry chuckle and a word of thanks I took my leave of Gimli and left. The dining hall was connected to the throne room through a series of wooden arches, branching both left and right. I avoided the throne and took the left way, past some low burning torches to the stables. Passing a low stone well with a red roof I pushed open the great oak doors, which creaked in protest before settling behind me. The torches inside were burning low, but I could still see fairly well. The horses were neatly paddocked, with great bales of hay and a bucket of oats each. Shadowfax gave me an inquisitive stare; his great white mane glistening in the low light, before returning to a pail of fresh water that had been set out for him. I briefly checked on Hasufel and Arod, who were both comfortably situated. Someone had taken the time to brush their coats until they were dust and dirt free. Coming to the extra hay barrels, my heart sank as I realized Legolas was not there. Usually he sought out a place with the most silence when he was overwrought, but it appeared my assumptions had led me wrong.

Exiting the barn, I made my way down a stone path that was slightly overgrown. The croak of a bullfrog told me I was nearing a pond, and I stopped when I realized I had come across a great gathering of sleeping cattle. The pond was oval in shape and dotted with lily pads. Blooms of algae spread across the surface far from me, and a great moon was rising in the distance. Scanning the banks, I almost collapsed with laughter to find Legolas leaning against a great spotted sow who was deeply in slumber. He sat with his back against her flanks and his legs straight out with his arms crossed. I observed that he watched a gathering of fireflies rising on the opposite side of the pond. A lock of golden hair fell forward to hide his face and he worried his bottom lip uncharacteristically.

"I see you've made a friend" I said softly.

He appeared to startle ever so slightly, but quickly hid it underneath a neutral expression. Choosing not to speak, I knelt in front of him and drew out my pipe.

"Her name's Teol" he said, only a slight drawl indicating that he was still very much under the influence of his excessive ale consumption. "And if you must know, she's had a very long day and won't like your chattering."

"Then I will have to disappoint her" I chuckled, taking a draw and glancing briefly up at the moon. "'Tis a beautiful night."

"I thought you'd be spending it in other company" Legolas said smartly, tapping his nose. I sighed.

"Eowyn was not kind to you" I said carefully. "She had no right saying the things she said. I should have defended you, but I didn't want to cause a scene."

We were silent after that, both of us watching the rise of the fireflies. They spread out over the pond in a great cloud, their tiny lights glittering like luminescent gold above the surface of the water. A flurry of wings announced the arrival of bats, and they swooped low over the smooth surface, catching what little of a meal they could. The frogs sang a melancholy chorus in the reeds and rushes. The heads of cattails bowed low in a gentle breeze, and their fluttering fronds gave forth tiny seedling bursts that disappeared on the wind. The hoot of a quail warbled in the distance and I sighed at the quaint solace around me, my heart aching for more of such peaceful things.

"I spoke out of turn" Legolas said finally. "I don't know why."

"We all tend to overindulge on occasion" I reassured him. "There is no shame in it, Gimli would tell you that."

"I am no dwarf" he snapped, though there was an undertone of shame to his voice. "I just couldn't stand it."

"What?" I asked, confused. He shifted, and more of his hair fell to hide his face.

"I couldn't stand her looking at you" he said fiercely. "Like you were something she could have at the drop of a hat. Like a pretty gem or diamond that gets scooped off the ground."

His voice had taken on a rough tone, his hands clenched at his sides.

"Legolas" I whispered, my throat suddenly dry.

He yanked at the front of my shirt and I found myself stumbling forward, leaning over him, staring into his bleary sapphire eyes. His breath ghosted across my face, and I smelled the spirits he had drunk. It was dizzying, overwhelming and confusing. My eyes traveled to his lips, which were open and pale in the soft moonlight. They were smooth, like the petals of the lilies whispering over the pond, with a faint sheen of pink. The dusky blond of his lashes dusted across alabaster cheeks as his eyes fluttered. I felt a roar of desire that was staggering and overwhelming; my heart thundered in my chest and my hands trembled as I lifted them up to push him away. His hand traveled from where it was bunched in my tunic to thread through my hair in a rough but tender gesture.

"If I cannot have you" he whispered. "Then I will make sure no one else does but Arwen."

And with that, he pressed his lips to mine and my thoughts scattered with the wind.

It was a rough kiss, it asked no questions and demanded no answers. It was angry, confused, and distant. And yet the explosion of passion I felt should have brought the mountains tumbling down in a cloud of dust. His lips were as soft as silk; moist and pliant, opening to me without the slightest resistance. It felt as if my veins were singing with pent-up frustration and relief; a burning desperation radiating from the core of my being. My fingers tingled and my face flushed. Lost, I buried my fingers in those sinfully moonlit locks and drew him close to me, breathing in the scent of him, the familiar woodsy smell that spoke of evergreen and sage. His mouth was sweet, overwhelmingly skilled, incomprehesibly addictive. My other hand was crushed in the rough fabric of his clothes, snaking about to clutch at the small of his back. I felt the supple yet strong whisper of muscles underneath the wool of his shirt; felt his heart beating against mine.

I sank down with him, helpless in the throes of such passion as we leaned back, both struggling to get a deeper taste of each other. Breathing no longer seemed a necessity. All I wanted was that beautiful mouth; to feel his lips against mine. His fingers scrabbled at the laces of my tunic and I felt a warning bell go off in the back of my mind; it told me were were going too far, too much too fast. And yet when Legolas moaned into my mouth, the sound of it reverbrated to the depths of my soul and I trembled at the voice of his desire. My roaming hands found the hem of his shirt and oh his skin was so soft, with a rich, virulent texture under my fingertips, and he shuddered for each questing touch; gasps coming from the back of his throat. I watched as his eyelids fluttered disbelievingly, those cerulean eyes open wide in an expression of near-wonderment and my heart fluttered.

I felt as if I had found something that I wouldn't be able to let go of; would never forget and would possibly regret for the rest of my life. Legolas whimpered and twisted his head, fitting himself to me more completely as my senses swam deleriously. It was good; better than good, it was terrible and beautiful. I was terrified by the amount of desire he stirred in me. Was it because I was human and he was an elf? Did his inhumane ability to bring me to my knees come from the Eldar magic running through his veins? It wasn't until the sow he was leaning on moo'ed in protest and got up, shaking us off and unto the ground in a huff that I regained my senses. Drawing back and covering my mouth with my hand, I felt a sense of horror overwhelm me. What was I doing?! Legolas wasn't himself, he'd regret this in the morning, and he'd never forgive me. The elf below me gave a saucy grin and tilted his head back as if inviting me for more. And Elbereth did I want it, and I hated myself for it. This was it. Our friendship was over. When he had sobered himself he wouldn't ever speak to me again.

"You're drunk" I said despairingly, as if it wasn't painfully obvious.

"I don't care" he said stubbornly.

"You will" I retorted, vaulting off him and putting distance between us. "Tomorrow you will. I'm sorry Legolas, I should never have let this happen."

"Don't be foolish" he snapped, sitting up.

And oh he was beautiful, with his hair in disarray over his shoulders and his lips flushed from kissing. His blue eyes glinted in the moonlight and I was so tempted to give in; to throw away all sense of propriety and honor and take what I wanted. But a part of me howled at the thought of taking advantage of someone I loved so dearly. I couldn't live with it should I do it. Any more, and my heart should surely break.

"I'm sorry" I said brokenly, and repeated it as I backed away. "There's...something wrong with me. Please, forget this ever happened."

And though he called me back several times I didn't look back. I left him there, among the fireflies and lily pads. I left him there with the memory of something that could never be, and should never have been. And when I returned to my chambers, I lay down and wept for there was surely no greater sin than what I had committed. Surely there is no greater sin than to squander the love of a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~You'll probably noticed I made Eowyn Theodin's daughter. This was intentional.
> 
> A/N I feel the need to mention at this point that I don't have a beta. I've done my best to go over the text and correct errors, but any mistakes you see are purely mine.


	18. The Greatest Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The remaining members of The Fellowship discuss Rohan's options. Aragorn and Legolas have a chat._

I awoke the next morning not quite knowing where I was. After a few moments, my gaze focused on the canopy above me; decorated with hunting scenes spanning back to the early days of Rohan. Theoden had been generous in giving us all separate rooms, and I was desperately grateful for it. I'd had little sleep, preferring to pace the room; torn between how I would act around Legolas now that I had acted so recklessly, and wondering if he would even deign to speak with me at all. Rolling over in bed, I eyed the tunic from the day before with a feeling of revulsion. I both wanted to burn it and keep it, as a memory of something I would surely never experience again.

My heart ached dully as I returned my gaze to the canopy, idly tracing a group of nobles and their hunting dogs pursuing a fox. I'd never been so terrified of going to breakfast before. I felt sick when I thought of facing Eowyn again, I feared I wouldn't have the patience for her advances, and I wouldn't be able to look at Legolas for fear of catching his expression of disgust. Propping myself up on the pillows, I reached for my pipe and lit it. Very rarely did I opt to smoke inside, but I needed a clear mind and a vision of what I intended to do. I loved Legolas. I wanted every aspect of him as much as I wanted to breathe. The only feelings I had left for Arwen were those of guilt and duty. No matter how much I wanted to be a 'proper' King, I had no right to marry her now. I'd given that up last night, when I'd allowed myself to kiss another, and a man at that. I felt as if I didn't know who I was anymore, like I had ground the definition of myself into fine ash that scattered in the wind.

With a groan, I forced myself out of bed, snuffing my pipe out and reaching for a fresh tunic. I'd get rid of the old one later, when I was done being foolish and nostalgia of terrible things. Taking a little time to pull the covers up over the bed, I mourned over simpler times when I didn't make rash decisions late at night. Wherever had my sensibilities gone? They seemed to have abandoned themselves with the evil conversation I'd had with Eowyn. Maybe her innocuous desire for rebellion and change was rubbing off on me. Pulling on a pair of breeches, I ran a hand through my hair before sitting down to slide on my boots.

Grabbing my cloak, I stepped out into the hall and was assaulted by a rush of cold air. Throwing the elven garment about me, I headed down to the kitchens. I managed to rustle up a loaf of bread and a mug of cider, and found my feet dragging me back to the stables. I found myself loathe to be there, with the memories of the night before so fresh in my mind, but I could think of no better place to sit in silence. I didn't dare return to the pond, Legolas might have slept there and I wasn't sure I was ready to face him yet. Tucking myself into Arod's stall I ate my brief repast, running through what I needed to do that day, more as a distraction than anything. I determined to find Gandalf after I finished my cider, and set about ruminating on where he could be.

"I take it things didn't go so well last night" came a gruff voice from below me.

Peeking 'round the door to the paddock, I smiled tiredly at the dwarf looking thunderously at me. Gimli placed his hands on his hips and harrumphed knowingly. Leaving the mug for the stableboy to find, I exited the stall to join my friend.

"Everything is well" I assured him, dusting my hands off. "There's no need for you to worry."

" _Och!_ Don't think you can fool an old dwarf like me" Gimli said disgustedly, waving a dismissive hand. "Legolas hasn't said a word this morning, and it's more than the ale, if that's what you were about to suggest" he said gruffly, and I closed my mouth. "I don't know what goes on between the two of you, it's not my business, but I'm mighty unhappy to see the two of you at odds..." he trailed off then, and I understood.

Gimli wasn't used to the emotional complexities that elves and men presented at every turn. Dwarves dealt with their feelings explosively, sometimes impulsively. I understood because I had acted in such a way the night before. I could almost see the logic in it; throwing one's emotions to the wind in favor of what was wanted. But that wasn't how I was taught, and I knew better to think that Gimli would understand my plight. It would have been nice to share some of my torturous feelings with a friend, but I said nothing.

"I appreciate your concern, my good friend" I said warmly, putting a hand on his shoulder. "The best thing about having friends, is knowing they're there when you need them."

The corners of Gimli's eyes crinkled as he smiled through his bushy beard.

"Aye, lad. I'm here for the both of you, if you have need of me" he said roughly.

"That's all that matters" I said simply. "Come, I've been looking for Gandalf, do you know where he's been?"

To my great distaste, the old wizard was in the throne room with Theoden, which meant I would inevitably run into Eowyn. We took the long way back, Gimli having sensed my reluctance. We spoke of other affairs, including where we would go once our business was finished in Edoras. We were both uncertain of our path, having seemingly finished our search for Merry and Pippin. Gimli briefly brought up seeking out Sam and Frodo, but in the end we both agreed that there was no way of telling where they might be. The guards in front of the Hall saluted us and drew their weapons apart to let us through.

"Ah! Aragorn, Gimli, so good of you to join us" Gandalf said warmly.

Seated next to Theoden, the old wizard's eyes twinkled merrily, and I wondered how such a shrewd man had failed to notice the dissension in the members of his party. Theoden bid us sit and we drew closer around the throne. We discussed the matter of orcs briefly, Theoden wanted to send a rider out to find Eomer, and bring him back into the fold in order to hunt the offending creatures. We agreed that this was probably the best course of action; with the families of the absent warriors undefended, Rohan was weaker than it ever could have been. Most of the people left were farmers, blacksmiths, bakers, and millmen. The few soldiers Grima had 'trusted' enough to keep in the King's defense numbered in the few. I was struck cold at the possibility of what could happen should Saruman decide to strike now.

"Gentlemen" came a familiar voice. I closed my eyes as Eowyn ghosted into the hall. Dressed in her traditional white, her blonde hair cast an ethereal halo about her shoulders. "What news makes you so serious?"

She took a seat next to me as if it were as comfortable as breathing. I noticed Theoden's approving glance and felt a rush of despair. Not only did the woman want me, but her father approved of it.

"Rohan is undefended" Theoden said grimly. "Until Eomer returns, we must think of a productive strategy."

"I can help defend our city" Eowyn said eagerly. "You know I have the training."

"I will not have my daughter running about with the soldiers like a commoner!" Theoden rumbled. "It is not your place to worry about combat and strategy. You are to tend to the needs of the people."

"I can do both" Eowyn insisted stubbornly. "If you do not let me try my hand in different things, I will never learn."

"If I cannot keep you within your boundaries you will never learn your place" the King retorted.

Gandalf, Gimli, and I exchanged tentative glances as father and daughter launched into a heated debate. I was glad enough that her attentions were on something other than myself. However, I felt it was likely best that we excuse ourselves when the opportunity presented itself. Glancing over at a stone-still guard in a corner, I wondered what they thought of a princess wanting to be a swords woman. Elves took their combat in stride, and trained both males and females to defend themselves and their comrades. The world of men was much more technical when it came to battle and tactics. Women belonged in the home, with the affairs of children and healing; men took to the field as was expected and little had been done to change such views. I was of no mind to reject the opinions of either culture, and thought it was not my place to voice my viewpoint in any way, shape, or form. As I sat ruminating on this, I heard soft footsteps enter the hall, stopping just before our turned backs before coming 'round to Gimli's side. Legolas spared me no glances, though he was very pale and drawn. Theodin greeted him and he offered the usual appropriate response with a traditional bow. Chancing a glance out of the corner of my eye I saw he looked unhappy and utterly confused, and my heart clenched. Gimli caught me looking and shook his head, his brows furrowed in what seemed like disappointment.

"How kind of you to join us, Legolas" Eowyn said smoothly. "Have you recovered from last night?"

He startled, perhaps drawing a double-meaning from her words. I myself felt a shudder go down my back at the thought of being caught as we were.

"I apologize for any dissension I may have caused by my early departure" he said, his voice wavering only slightly. "I assure you, I slept well last night and am fully capable of handling myself better today."

"I didn't know elves needed to sleep" the White Flower of Rohan said shrewdly.

"Even the best of us require a repast every now and then" I said sharply.

Legolas did not look at me, but stared off at the far wall. His cheeks colored at my defense of him but he said nothing.

"We were just discussing our need for a better defense in Rohan" Theodin continued. "I wonder if you have any thoughts of a way to better protect our lands while Eomer is gone."

We discussed tactical options throughout the morning and well into the afternoon. The light in the hall waxed and then waned as the day turned about outside, oblivious to the urgency we felt at our backs with the knowledge of our low defense. Gandalf himself offered little opinion on our best course of action, preferring to sit back and listen to what everyone had to say. Twice, I caught his gaze snap between Legolas and I and I liked not the shrewd expression that crossed his face on both occasions. It wouldn't be long before he figured out what was wrong, I wasn't any good at hiding things from the old wizard. More often than not he guessed correctly at stubbornly held secrets, and I was fair exhausted from keeping mine since we'd left Lorien. If he approached me about it, I'd decided tell him the truth. He would know if I was lying, and I had not the wiles to act as if I had nothing to hide.

When we had finally adjourned for the day, Legolas was out of the hall so fast it was as if he'd never been. Gandalf went to check on Shadowfax, and Gimli grumbled about finding something for a late lunch. Theodin bid Eowyn come with him to his study, and though she cast a longing glance at me he would hear nothing of a protest, and they soon disappeared as well. Left alone in the hall, I gave myself some time to be by myself before venturing out. When a servant came in to tend the fire I took the back way, through the dining hall and down to the pond. The afternoon was mild, and a scattering a dragonflies were the only company I found myself in. The cattle had moved away to graze in the verdant pastures, and the spot where Legolas and I had met the night before was clear as if it had never been. Avoiding the space with a vengeance, I took a different way around the pond and found myself gazing out onto the open expanse of plain beyond. I had expected such behavior from Legolas, but it still disappointed and hurt me. Both of us were honor-bound to future duties we had worked far too hard to be deserving of. Even if he had returned my feelings, the stakes against us were impossibly high.

Thranduil was not well known for his love of anything other than his own people, and a union of his son with a human would surely be frowned upon. The people of Gondor would expect their King to have a Queen, and Legolas was no woman. Male couples weren't so unusual in the elven world, but there was a great prejudice against them in the world of men. I wasn't even sure if I would not be overthrown if I declared Legolas my consort.

"Why am I even thinking about this?" I thought despairingly, sinking down into the grass. "Legolas doesn't even return my feeligs." I sighed and lay back in the tall grass, gazing up at the clouds. "But he kissed you" I niggling voice in the back of my mind whispered. "You didn't initiate anything."

Growling, I sat up and put my head in my hands. We were in the middle of a war between one of the greatest enemies Middle Earth had ever seen and I was worried about kissing an elf. Where in the world were my priorities?! Frodo and Sam were on a possibly hopeless quest to the top of Mount Doom, and Merry and Pippin were on an unknown mission of their own. If I were busy like I should have been, last night wouldn't have even happened. Leisure brings about the evilest things, and I couldn't abide by an idle mind and body. Obviously, it led to very poor mistakes. My duty lay with the Fellowship, whatever was left of it. My amorous concerns were self-centered, childish, and uncalled for. Men were dying, lands were being overridden and orcs were growing in number. I had a responsibility to oversee and no amount of misery or unrest excused me from my duties.

I let myself enjoy the sunny afternoon just long enough to lull myself into a sense of false relaxation. Smoking my pipe and gazing at a bunch of dragonflies wasn't high on my list of priorities but it was a welcome repast, and I thought of nothing but the warmth of the day sinking into my shoulders and the soft grass beneath my feet. As the colors of evening set in, I cleaned my pipe and let my feet lead me back 'round the pond and up the path, pausing to look back with only the faintest feeling of bitterness. I couldn't change what had already happened, the only option was to look forward and hope for the best outcome possible. A crowd of chickens startled as I came back 'round the barn and I paused to let the cloud of feathers fall. They skittered along the packed dirt in dusty whorls; disappearing into cracks and corners in the apex walls without the slightest whisper.

"We need to talk."

His voice was hoarse, as if he'd spent most of the day silent. Turning, I spotted Legolas leaning on the doors to the barn. He wore the same garb from the day before, and I wondered if he had slept at all. I felt immensely guilty for the few hours of rest I'd gotten that night. Without saying a word, he slipped into the barn and I followed. The horses nickered as we passed their stalls, and I caught the occasional flash of a curious eye or a questing nose. I noted that Shadowfax was absent and wondered where Gandalf had gone. Legolas headed to the very back of the barn, to a stack of hay assembled neatly in the rear. Nimbly scaling to the top, he sat with his arms wrapped around his knees, staring off at the far wall.

"I didn't think you'd ever want to speak to me again" I said quietly, bowing my head and putting my hands behind my back.

"You are not the one who drank half a larder of ale" Legolas said in a choked voice.

"And I told you, we all make foolish mistakes" I said gently.

"Is that what last night was?" he said, sounding a bit hysterical. "A foolish mistake?"

"That's not what I meant" I said, stepping forward and holding my hands up in a gesture of apology. "I...I don't blame you...I..."

Trailing off, I let my arms drop and put a hand to my face in frustration. I wasn't prepared for this, I'd never expected him to seek me out so soon. I should have known better. He was likely beyond holding petty grudges and placing blame with his age. Legolas would seek the problem at its source, and I had horribly misjudged him.

"You think I will say that we should forget it" Legolas said quietly. I lifted my head. "You think that I will want us to go back the way we were and be friends as we always have."

"I would rather that than have you hate me" I said gruffly.

He laughed then, a soft and musical sound.

_"Ed' i'ear ar' elenea!_ I could never hate you. But I cannot pretend that I do not love you anymore." My breath caught, and it felt as if all the air had been pushed out of my lungs. "I know it isn't right" he continued, taking my silence as rejection. "And I understand if you don't return my feelings, but I won't lie to myself Aragorn, and I won't lie to you." He turned his head to gaze down at me, his eyes filled with affection so strong it could have made me weak. " _Amin hiraetha_ Aragorn, _amin mela lle."_

"Legolas" I said weakly, and he flinched as if expecting a blow. "Legolas, I have known I loved you since Lorien."

His intake of breath was sharp in the soft silence of the barn, and his eyes glowed.

"Why...?"

"Why did I not tell you?" I asked, and he nodded. "How could I have? I thought that you would think me sick, or confused. Ever have you been my friend, but I would never have burdened you with such news, 'twas my own load to bear."

In one fluid moment he jumped down to stand before me, as closes as the night before. Sky-blue eyes searched mine in disbelief, as if I would ever lie to him of such a thing.

" _Ai_ Aragorn" he exclaimed, and I was shocked to hear a note of despair in his voice. "What are we to do?"

"I don't know" I replied, the weight of reality crashing back onto me. "I...I never thought I would get this far."

"What of Arwen?" he pressed. "Do you not love her?"

"The feelings I had for Arwen are nothing compared to what I feel for you" I whispered.

"Aragorn..." Legolas said, trailing off. "No one is going to support us in this. If we were to begin a relationship, and were to go public with it, we would be utterly alone."

"You don't know that" I said harshly.

We stood there again, and I noted how sick I was of the long stretches of silence between us. Toe to toe, staring at the opposite person's boots with our hands hanging at our sides.

"My father would never support it" Legolas whispered. "I'm to rule one day, Aragorn, as are you. Elrond would never forgive you for leading Arwen on."

"You are the one who told me you loved me" I retorted. "What am I to do with that information? Toss it away? Marry Arwen even though I could never possibly be happy with her?"

"I don't know!" Legolas said, his hands lifting to cover his face. "Most people would say yes, but I would never want for you to be unhappy. And it would be unfair for you to marry anyone whom you did not love."

"There are many things to consider" I said grimly. "But if I must be logical-which is very hard in this sort of situation-I would say that we cannot focus on this right now. There is a war to be won and lands that need protection. Rohan will be in ruins if we don't put everything we have in locating Eomer and bringing him back."

"So we do nothing" Legolas said resignedly, shaking his head.

"We wait" I agreed, putting a hand on his shoulder. "There is no purpose in dwelling on our love if we have no future to share it with."

The golden-haired elf looked uncertain for a moment, but a resolve blossomed in his beautiful eyes and he nodded, his lips in a grim line. I ached not to do it; to put our obvious feelings for each other aside in favor of the greater good, but nothing positive would come of us if we were distracted by each other. It was the main reason I'd not married Arwen before I left Rivendell, there were other things to attend to, and as much as I'd wanted our doomed romance to succeed I'd had other duties. Now, I was forced to do the same thing once more, and it brought me no joy only a forced sense of determination. I would see us through to the bitter end, and then I would properly remenisce on our affections.

The hand I had placed on Legolas' shoulder was joined by a supple elven one. It threaded gracefully through the my fingers and brought them down to hang between us. One thumb rubbed against the flat of my palm; sending little humming bursts of excitement into my wrist each time it made circular contact with my skin. I caught his gaze and he smiled, a little ruefully. Lifting my other hand, I let it trace the soft porcelain slope of his cheek before grasping his chin and tugging him close. The kiss was chaste, nothing like the night before. I savored the feel of his lips against mine; committing the effervescent taste of him to memory. We broke apart and Legolas gently leaned his head on my shoulder while I stroked my fingers through his sunlight-colored hair.

"I love you" he murmured against my neck, his breath tickling the apex joining my shoulder and collar.

"And I you" I whispered.

We left the barn a short time afterward, holding hands until we had reached the door. A part of me that seemed long discontent and unhappy was finally at rest. If we had to wait, I was fine with it. I had all the knowledge that I needed, and I could be happy with the simple declaration of our affections for a long time. Sometimes, it does not take the violent throes of passion to extinguish the agonizing blaze of doubt and desire. And though Kingdoms might fall in our stead, I was happy with him. Legolas loved me, and the greatest joy I had never thought I'd feel was the brightest warmth in a desolate world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations**  
>  Ed' i'ear ar' elenea!-By the sea and stars!  
> Amin hiraetha-Forgive me  
> amin mela lle-I love you


	19. Of Ire and Asps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Eowyn hatches a plot_

"Do tell me more about Imladris, Sir. Aragorn."

Eowyn's dress was very scratchy. Squashed next to her at dinner, I couldn't help but notice that whoever designed her dresses was not very practical when it came to comfort. Her bodice was unnecessarily tight, and I caught myself wondering if her bosom would fly out of it and launch the glasses in front of us to the opposite side of the table. I wouldn't have noticed any of this, of course, if she hadn't bothered to shift her chair as near to me as possible. I was beyond telling myself I ought to be flattered. Everything about her attentions was in every way ridiculous.

"Lady Eowyn, I have told you everything I can about Rivendell, save for that which I consider private and sacred unto myself."

Her lips fell into an exasperating pout and she leaned forward to emphasize her displeasure.

"Surely there must be more you can tell me!"

"I could tell you of when I visited Aragorn when he was young" Legolas said sweetly, his blue eyes narrowed as he gazed at my unfortunate dinner companion over the table.

Eowyn flushed, as if the mere thought that Legolas knew more about me than she did drove her ire through the roof beams.

"I'm not sure-"

"-He was just the most adorable little boy" the golden-haired elf cooed. "He had the softest, most luxurious curls, and the biggest eyes. He used to follow me everywhere."

"How nice for you" Eowyn replied with the same insidious sweetness. "You must have been quite the spectacle, out of the halls of your father for the first time in your life."

"Quite" Legolas agreed lightly. "I every single minute of it."

I wondered if it were possible for women to go into hysterics simply from being taunted to a heinous degree. Eowyn looked as if she would either faint or scream and I didn't want to be the one who had to catch her, as it would surely only worsen her infatuation. Theodin was deeply immersed in a discussion with Gandalf and hadn't noticed the repertoire between elf and woman, for which I was immensely grateful. Legolas, satisfied with his ability to enrage, had gone back to eating a biscuit with an extravagant air of satisfaction. I busied myself with shuffling my mug of ale, determinedly ignoring the sputtering lady beside me. Shooting a glance to my left I was surprised to see Gimli looking irritated and rather upset. Pushing the matter from my mind I idly joined in Gandalf and the King of Rohan's conversation.

Throughout the rest of the dinner, Eowyn remained silent. She poked at the food on her plate and kept her eyes downcast. I couldn't help but feel a little guilty. She was so very young, and hadn't any experience in courtship. Without a motherly figure in her life, she relied solely on her determination to prove herself and her father's gentle but coarse tutelage. If I had learned anything at all from her, it was that being a lady was very hard to do in Rohan. Still, she had need of some measure of restraint and respect, and I did not appreciate her words to Legolas the evening before. I had no pity for someone who had told a friend that they should have perhaps died many an age ago. There was no jest in the insinuation of death, and in such dark times evil words could not be taken lightly. Her bitterness made it hard for me to feel any kindness, and I had no desire to feed it with a momentary sense of pity.

We were dismissed early, our dinner disrupted by the arrival of news of wide-spread attacks. The smaller farms and villages were fair-consumed by assaults by the Wildmen, and the surviving inhabitants had made their way to Edoras with their dark tidings. Theoden announced that we would travel to Helm's Deep to protect his people, which did not bode well with me. We were to ride out in the morning and arrive by evening, if all went well. Gimli, Legolas, and I exited the hall together and we made our way to a small alcove tucked neatly into the arched passageway between the throne room and the dining hall. Once we were there, Gimli whirled with a sudden fierceness and faced us both with a brooding glint in his eyes.

"What were you thinking, baiting the lass like that?!" he growled at Legolas. Surprised, the golden-haired elf said nothing, but folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. "You ought to stay out of things that haven't anything to do with you, Aragorn can defend himself."

"It was just a little fun" Legolas protested, looking sour.

"It was meddling, childish, and needless" Gimli said gruffly. "Besides, Lady Eowyn deserves a chance, don't you think? She doesn't come with the...baggage that Lady Arwen does."

"Gimli!" Legolas gasped.

"Och! I'm only saying what's true" the dwarf said stubbornly. "Lady Arwen will live much longer than Aragorn, and she'll spend most of her continuing years grieving for his loss. She'll have to leave her father and family in order to be with him, and may possibly become gravely unhappy in later years. Lady Eowyn comes from a house of high standing. She's spirited and determined like our Aragorn, and she's not afraid to show it!"

"Gimli" I sighed exhasperately. "While I"m...flattered you've considered all angles considering my nuptials...which could possibly never happen...I don't think it's right to speak ill of the Lady Arwen."

"I just want what's best for you laddie, and I don't know if you'll be getting it with Arwen, bless her kind and gentle soul" the dwarf harrumphed.

"Thank you, and I will consider your words" I said tightly.

He hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, but instead chose to turn 'round and beat a path back to the sleeping quarters. I eyed his retreating back with a measure of irritation. It was enough having Eowyn throw herself at me on her own without my friends jumping in on the bandwagon. It was true that Eowyn was beautiful, determined, witty, and of course mortal. But I'd learned my lesson in courting by material quality with Arwen. Legolas exhaled huffily and turned to look out onto the plains. I watched him for a while, feeling a slight twinge of amusement.

"You're jealous" I remarked lightly, coming to stand next to him.

He flushed, the tips of his pointed ears turning a light pink.

"Maybe I am" he said defensively. "Why does it matter?"

"Because" I murmured, snaking an arm around his waist. "When you're acting jealous you look like you're causing a scene for the fun of it, you naughty elf."

"I can't help it" he muttered, shrugging out from under my arm and looking around to make sure we were alone. "It's worse now that I know you return my feelings."

"Out of curiosity" I said idly. "When did you figure out your feelings for me?"

He was silent for a while, his blue eyes narrowed in thoughtfulness.

"When you were young" he began softly. "When you were young and I came to visit you in Rivendell I felt a pull towards you that I had never felt before. You must understand that it was naught but a feeling of over-protectiveness and affection. I could not understand it myself, didn't allow myself to think about it until years later." He took a deep breath and leaned his elbows on the edge of the arch. "Then...then when I saw you in the Greenwood, I knew you. Part of my soul resonated with recognition even when you looked nothing as you did as a child." He smiled crookedly at me. "And now, as we continue this blasted quest, I find myself needing you. Wanting your touch, your reassurances, your voice. I...I look at you and I feel..." his voice quivered. "I feel as if I could never live without you." He laughed, a little bitterly. "All my life I've been the subject of courtship, of flattery and exposition. And of course I fall for the King of Men, for the most impossible love I could possibly choose."

"You hate it" I whispered.

"Nay" he murmured, his fingers brushing lightly over mine. "Quite the opposite, really, I've enjoyed every minute of falling in love with you. It seems so wrong to say it, but it's only the truth."

The wind whispered a melancholy tune over the arches. Cold stars twinkled in the distance as we stood side-by-side, contemplating the frosty whisper of the plains. A guardsman passed us and we exchanged perfunctory greetings. He disappeared towards the throne room and did not return. I could hear the lowing of cattle in the distance; a soft and melancholy sound against the velvet darkness surrounding us. It wasn't until the torches were burning low that Legolas turned to me, his blue eye glimmering in the dying light. I smiled crookedly and he returned the gesture, briefly lacing his fingers through mine. We walked the length of the passage that way, with our hands joined and no words spoken. I left him at his room and went to mine for a final night of rest.

If either of us had been paying attention, we would have noticed the figure clad in white that had watched us in the shadows. 'Ere would I regret the day I was so ignorant of watchful eyes and womanly wiles. And so come morning, I found myself at terrible odds with hardly a way to get out of it.  
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Eowyn threatened me.

She caught me before breakfast, when I was leaving my rooms. Bundled in a cloak full of fur, she drew me to the side with eyes full of malice and disdain.

"I know your secret" she said, her eyes appraising me as if my worth was naught.

"I know not of what you speak" I replied, a cold dread filling my mouth.

She chuckled and glanced down the hall, a cruel smile on her lips.

"I wondered why that elf should goad me so, though I had my suspicions. He looked too long at you, and I wondered if it was one-sided" she smiled again, and in that moment, I hated her. "Then I saw how you spoke to each other; alone, on the Passway. Saw your hands touch and your eyes burn." Her lip curled. "You are no man. You are a poor excuse for a chauvinist fool, and your desires are virulent and unseemly."

"And what will you do?" I said in a cold fury. "No one will believe you."'

She tilted her head and her smile grew wider still.

"His father...Thranduil isn't it? He holds his hopes for his son in high esteem."

"You wouldn't" I ground out.

"I would" she hissed. "And when Thranduil of the Woodland Realm finds out his son lusts after a mortal man, you can be sure he will take your precious elf home and lock him away forever."

I was stunned, repulsed, and afraid. This wasn't the Eowyn I had come to know. Jealousy drove her, though to what end I couldn't guess. I hadn't met such vindictiveness and scorn in a long time, since I was barely past boyhood. Her threat was real, it was terrifying and on-point. If she told Thranduil of Legolas and I, we were ruined. We would never get a chance to know each other, let alone sort out our future. Thranduil would issue his son's immediate return and threaten war if he was not. I knew of the fierce standards the elven king held regarding duty and country. It was something that had plagued my mind the night before, after I had left Legolas at his rooms. Soon enough, Legolas' long line of suitors would grow short, and his father would surely force his hand in choosing one in order to continue the family line. By choosing each other, we would effectively be ending the ancestral lines of both the Greenwood and the sons of Isildur. Such decisions were not made easily, and posed a great hurdle for both of us.

"What do you want?" I said bitterly.

"Court me" she said bluntly, and I looked at her in horror. "Court me and then marry me, and I shall spare the reputation of your precious elven prince."

"I do not love you" I said in a low voice. "I don't even know you, and you don't know me. How can you possibly expect us to have a marriage?!"

"Oh, don't pretend all of this betrothal business is over love" she scoffed. "Families marry their children to each other out of duty, not out of love." Her smile grew dangerous. "See that you make your decision before we reach Helm's Deep. I have a courier with a steed almost as fast as Shadowfax. Don't think you can overtake him, not without exposing yourself and your...friend." She spat the last word out as a curse and strode away, leaving me there, stunned and disgusted.

It wasn't long after that Gandalf came to find me to inform me we were to be off. I followed him to the stables, where Legolas flashed me a warm smile before helping Gimli up onto his steed. I mounted my own with a feeling of foreboding and desperation. How long would he continue to gift me with his smile if I acquiesced to Eowyn's demands? What would happen to him if I didn't? And how on earth was I supposed to see any other option than my acceptance?


	20. Amin Khiluva Lle a' Gurtha ar' Thar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Our friends are attacked on the way to Helm's Deep_

It seemed as if my world had been narrowed to a point and left in the suns of joy and contentment. Aragorn loved me. He _loved_ me. In the face of everything we had toiled through, I was loved. It felt as if I had been plunged into darkness; deep and resolute, and suddenly I was allowed to see the sun again. When we kissed that night, my blood sang and my heart flew. Everything that was good and beautiful was made dim in light of his mouth against mine. I wanted nothing more, I couldn't be happier. For years, I had endured maidens singing my praises in their finest gowns. Dressed by their Nanas and flaunted by their Adars, I was expected to fall madly in love with one of them without knowing who they were. Now, someone who knew me for who I was had offered me their heart, and I was helpless to refuse.

_"Legolas...I have known I loved you since Lorien."_

I shivered, clutching Arod's reigns tighter as I recalled Aragorn's words. Shooting a surreptitious gaze ahead, I smiled wistfully at the proud shoulders of my paramour. He was a fool to think himself unworthy to be king, already he held himself with the stature of a ruler. He was rough and fair, with intense grey eyes that could see straight to the soul. I frowned as I observed Eowyn walking beside him. She gazed up at him with a smile, chattering needlessly. Envy stirred in my belly as I watched them. It was easy, for a woman to pursue a man in this day and age, especially one of high status. I too was privileged with the gifts of rank, but there were times when I wondered why I couldn't have fallen for a woman. My father would never approve, he might disown me if he ever found out. I was fully aware of the possible consequences of our newly-born romance.

"You're awfully quiet laddie" Gimli grumbled at my back.

I smiled, a little wistfully.

"Gimli" I began hesitantly. "Can I ask you something?"

"Ask away!" Gimli said encouragingly.

"What if...what if you're in love with someone, but you knew your family would never approve?"

There was silence as the dwarf processed what I had said, and I felt a pang of anxiety.

"Aye, lad" he sighed. "You have to understand, dwarves don't run into that problem much. We marry who we love, and to hell with whoever doesn't approve." He grunted. "I've always thought the customs of men and the like were silly and subservient." He grew silent once more. "You should know I'll say that you should follow your heart, and damn anyone who says you shouldn't" he growled. "But I know what happens when people's families outside of dwarfkind disown them."

"So what should I do?" I asked despairingly.

"Think long and hard" he said gruffly. "And whatever's most important to you'll win out."

"How can I choose between my father and my love?"

"You shouldn't have to at all" the dwarf growled. "But if you want my honest opinion, if your father stops loving you because you love someone who doesn't fit in his perfect elvish picture of your life, then you're better off without him."

"Gimli!" I exclaimed.

"I've said enough" he harrumphed. "You have my opinion, it's up to you how you choose to use it."

At that moment, there was a yipping and howling in the distance. My blood ran cold as I recognized the feral cry of approaching wargs. The villiagers in the caravan gave a cry of fear. The few soldiers assembled began to bark orders, drawing away from the rest of the group to the sound of the ravenous beasts. Theoden gave commands for the women and children to continue on to Helm's deep as an outpouring of wargs and their riders came over a hill. I caught only a glimpse of Aragorn, his sword swinging about him, before Gimli and I plunged into the fray.

We were taken by surprise, and the attack was swift and unforgiving. Gimli often made sport of our killing, and I went along with it for novelty's sake; but I couldn't help feeling a dark grief in my veins when I saw other soldiers fall around us. Some had their necks ripped out by feral teeth, their blood spattering across the grass in crimson arcs. Others were lanced by the deft and vicious tip of a pike. Wargs are no strangers to brutality; a simple sword stroke to the side is not enough to take one down. I was lucky to be deft enough to land head-shots, but Gimli was forced to go for neck, belly, and brain. It was grim work; having to dispatch an enemy as if you were going to eat it. Orcs themselves were easy enough, but mounted on their mangy steeds made it difficult and gory work. I knew before we started the battle that we were going into it with unfavorable odds; really, I had no idea.

Having thinned out the hoard, Gimli suggested we return to Theoden for further instruction. The bearded ruler was on the crest of a hill wiping his blade in the grass. Upon our arrival, he admitted that we had done the best we could, despite our losses.

"Where is your friend?" he asked, almost absentmindedly. "Where is Aragorn?"

"He hasn't come to you?" Gimli growled, and Theoden shook his head.

With a feeling of dread, the three of us began to scour the field. I was staggered by the amount of losses we'd incurred. At this rate, we'd never be able to defend Helm's Deep if we were attacked. Blood lay fresh on the grass, glistening in horrific blooms of red and black. A choking copper and acid scent hung in the air; ugly and cloying. Here and there, a lame horse wailed, only to be silenced under the stroke of a merciful sword. It wasn't until we reached the cliffs that I noticed a lone orc lying under his steed. Barely alive, great funnels of onyx blood ran from his lips; and yet he laughed. I'll never forget that laugh, it brought a cold knife to my thoughts, a steel revulsion to every limb of my body. He clutched something in his hand, a glint of silver purity gleamed through his gnarled fingertips and I knelt to snatch at it. My breath caught in my throat as I recognized the Evenstar; stained with black blood.

"Tell me what happened to him!" I hissed, grabbing the front of his armor and shaking it. "Tell me, and I shall lessen the pain of your death."

A choked, garbled laugh rose to greet me, and I snarled as more black blood spilled onto my hand.

"He fell" the dying orc exclaimed in triumph.

A roaring was in my ears, but I did not heed it. I heard Gimli's enraged howl.

"You lie" I gasped; the sickly grin widened.

"Took a little tumble off the cliff."

I cut his throat without care, heeding not the spray of blood across my face. I let my blades drop and stared at the ground. It could not be, Aragorn was not dead. Just hours ago he'd been here, riding his horse with all the life and vitality of one who would live a long and full life. And yet somewhere in my heart, I knew it to be true. There was an emptiness that had not been there before, a yawning gulf that threatened to overwhelm everything I was. The field of my vision grew dark, tunneling itself to the faintly glimmering Evenstar in my hand. Someone grasped my shoulder but I shook it off. The rage I had felt while killing the orc was gone, all that was left was a sensation of listlessness and despair. I cared not for the black blood on my face or the wind at my back; Aragorn was gone. The cliffs were sharp and unforgiving, the bottom clogged with razor-edged rocks and churning water. No man would have survived such a fall.

"Lad" came Gimli's voice in my ear. "Lad, come on, we've got to go."

His voice quavered a bit in my ear, and I knew he was deeply grieved, but he could never understand. There would be no wondering how Aragorn and I would figure ourselves out. Like a blossom struck by the final winter frost, it had been stamped out by a vicious cold; the chill of death. It seemed as if an icy, iron vice squeezed the very light that was my soul. I'd never known a grief so deep and so profound; it left me shaking and helpless. Somehow, Gimli helped me up onto Arod. I numbly took the reigns and followed the riders on to what I knew was certain death. Staring ahead, I grimly welcomed it. I knew now that I had naught to look forward to, nothing to keep me warm in the deep despairs of life. I'd looked for what I'd known in Aragorn for thousands of years, and when I found it, it was taken from me. Twice, Gimli tried to talk to me, I didn't respond. I found myself struggling to breath, to look ahead and find our path. I rode steadfastly beside Theoden, but I was hardly aware of it. The men beside me mourned their fallen kin, but I mourned my love. Even as the sun grew dim over the bleak rise of the mountains, I knew nothing. A sadness so deep and profound it choked me threatened to swallow me whole, and I wondered if I would make it to the Keep. And yet make it we did, and when Arod was safely paddocked, I slid off him into the hay and did not move.

A great coldness had overcome my limbs; as I lay there inhaling the bitter-sweet smell of the stable. The blunt of my dirk was digging into my hip but I ignored it, the tips of my fingers were going numb. Indeed, it seemed as if all the extremeties of my body were slowly becoming unresponsive to any and all commands. I do not know how long I lay there, under Arod's watchful eyes. I know that Gimli tried to rouse me; that he cursed me, then begged me. His voice seemed far away, like a distant echo across a vast space I could not hope to traverse. It was as if the oceans of time had slowed, and the weightlessness of Oblivion knocked at the doors to my mind. At some point, I realized I was fading. It didn't bother me, which I suppose is what fading does to oneself. It struck me odd, that I should love so strongly; only to be brought down to dust because of it. And yet it seemed fitting. Even as the scratchy texture of the hay beneath my cheek became a feather-light touch, I felt no fear. There were voices about, I caught the dim glimmer of a feather-light touch and a white gown.

"What's he doing?"

The hissed query seemed to reverberate across the expanse of my mind; dancing into corners before slithering into the apexes of my comprehension. I vaguely registered that it was Eowyn speaking. There was a long moment of silence, and the void in my mind grew larger. It seemed as if I danced toward it, a leaf across the slow-turning and glassy surface of a pond; twoards the rumbling of a distant waterfall.

"He's dying."

Gimli's voice then, my poor friend. How lucky I was to have such steadfast companions in my life.

"No one dies from love" was the scornful reply.

Ah! If only that were more true. Really, it seems such a silly little thing that can bring us to our ruin. We are immortal, yet a little thing like heartbreak can destroy us. That and unwilling violation of the body. It rarely happens, but death is imminent.

"You may think love a weak and pitiable thing, Lady" came Gimli's voice, roughened by grief and anger. "But in the world of elves, it defines them." There was a sniffling noise. "Och! I wish I had seen it sooner, the poor lad! I should have known, with the way they looked at each other."

It seemed my spirit hovered at the tips of my lips. A wisp of faint and glowing light; it guided me to the Halls of Mandos. I realized, with a leap of joy, that I would see my mother again. And I would see Aragorn. A warm contentment filled me. There was a commotion going on...in that distant land of the living. Someone was shouting, others were rushing about. I vaguely registered someone pulling me up and shaking my shoulders. Cracking open weary eyes, I smiled into the face of Lady Eowyn.

"Come now" she said, and her voice was thick with tears. "Come now, you have to see this."

It took every effort I had to drag myself to my feet. Gimli supported my arm, but it felt as if I had eaten my weight in iron. My limbs were heavier than lead and I wanted little else but to lay down and drift away. Still, I didn't want to disappoint. They led me down a series of passageways; each as nondescript and blurry as the next. Torches cast a streaky glow against my darkened eyes. People looked at us strangely, their faces swelling like great moons in my distorted vision. It must have been a strange sight, a dwarf and a lady leading a half-dead elf out to the front gate. A great assembly had gathered there, including King Theoden. He cast me a strange look but bid me no mind. Just as I determined I would simply fall over on the spot-damn whoever tried to catch me-the great doors swung open.

I recognized the steed before I saw the rider. Hasufel was a grand beast, with as much majesty as his charge. I laughed wildly, for I thought they meant to comfort me with a horse. There was a great silence, Eowyn gasped and Gimli cheered. A general roar of victory sprang up from the soldiers. I slumped down in the apex of the wall, hidden from the rest of the ensemble. Cool fingers touched my cheeks, bringing up my chin; and I raised my eyes to look into a sea of gorgeous grey.

"Aragorn?" I mumbled.

He smiled, his face weary, battered, and bruised. Tired beyond his years, my love looked. Saddened, concerned, and yet joyful. I swallowed thickly.

"You're late" I said reproachfully.

He laughed, and it was as if Life were poured back into my veins. I could feel the dying sun on my face; the breeze in my hair. The scent of the Earth came rushing back and nearly overcame me. But more than any of that, I saw him. Tattered, an eyesore and more, but alive. I felt the tears come to my eyes unbidden. My hands lifted, trembling, fingers questing to touch his hair, his lips, his beard. Gently, he folded my hand into his, bringing it down to my side. A great sob bubbled up in my chest; and a grief I didn't know I had felt released itself.

"Not here" he murmured, and I desperately grasped at the threads of my sanity.

_"Oia naa elealla alasse"_ I whispered.

_"Cormamin lindua ele lle"_ he replied, smiling. Then he grew serious. "Legolas...you nearly died, Gimli told me."

"So did you."

He shook his head, seemingly frustrated.

"No. I'm not worth the price of your life."

I smiled, a little sadly.

"Elves cannot help when they Fade. We have no control over it, Aragorn. You must think me very weak, but I would follow you to death and beyond."

"I do not think you weak" he murmured. "I think you daft, and a little bit silly."

A soft rustle of skirts told us we were not alone. I smiled at Eowyn but Aragorn visibly stiffened and drew away from me. The White Flower of Rohan looked wistful and resigned. She folded her hands in front of her and tiltetd her head.

"I...owe both of you an apology" she began hesitantly. "I meddled where I should not, I have no excuse." She looked at Aragorn, who would not meet her eyes. "I release you from what I said" she continued, her voice wavering. "I hope I have not ruined whatever chances of friendship there might have been with you."

Bowing her head, she disappeared down a corridor to the right. As the sound of her footsteps faded, I turned back to Aragorn.

"What does she speak of?" I asked softly.

He was looking back the way she had gone, a dark expression on his face.

"I...I don't think I have the heart to tell you" he said roughly. "Only I do not know if I'll ever be able to view her as a friend."

"There is always hope" I reminded him gently.

He smiled then, and nothing in the world was important enough to me to lose him. Gimli was right, my heart had chosen for me in the end; and I could face whatever obstacles ahead of us as long as he was close to me. Aragorn led me into the dining hall, and we sat at one of the long benches. Holding my chin in my hands, I was suddenly struck by how exhausted I was.

"Arwen saved me" Aragorn said softly, after we had sat a while in silence.

"She is a good woman" I replied, pressing the Evenstar into his hand.

He looked at it as if he didn't recognize it. I watched as his fingers slowly curled, encompassing the jewel in his grasp. Moving as if he was in a dream, he tucked the token into his pocket.

"I'm going to return it to her" he said resolutely. "I owe her that much."

"Do what you think is right" I said, reaching across the table to grasp his hand.

He looked at me, a long searching look that made my bones weak.

"You feel right" he said softly. "You're the only thing I can make any sense of anymore."

"Then we will face the storm together" I whispered. "Elbereth knows we may not have much time left."

He kissed me then, and it was slow, soft and sweet. I lost myself in his essence, the rough, exuberant virility that defined his heart. I was frightened, to know I was so far gone I could die without him. But at the same time, it brought me relief to know I was doing the right thing. So when the Uruk-Hai came in a white-handed wave to assault the Deeping Wall, I fired my arrows in the name of love. And every death I took was one more breath to draw with him...and the bloody dawn that awaited us on a dark and insidious horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title Translation**   
>  I will follow you to death and beyond
> 
> **General Translations:**
> 
> Oia naa elealla alasse-Ever is they sight a joy
> 
> Cormamin lindua ele lle-My heart sings to see thee


	21. Am man theled?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Our two star-struck lovers share a moment of solitude after the Battle of Helm's Deep_

Victory is never easily won.

For those few times we succeed in the art of war; the losses often outweigh the gain. There is always death, blood, and grief. We celebrate with banquets, parades, and festivals while our loved ones rot in the grave with mortal wounds. Survivors revel in their relief and guilt, drowning in the ales of success in order to assuage sorrow. Whispers of 'doing our best' and 'they will never be forgotten' are salves to our fastidious denial. The Living carry on and the Dead speak no more, in coffins and tombs with naught but rocks and rot to keep them company.

My people were slain alongside men in Helm's Deep. I told myself it was a glorious end, a falling to sing about in the years to come. My mind reassured me that their families would never be forgotten; that elves, men and dwarves would praise them for eons onward and the glory of their deaths was of storybook mythology. Haldir, with his magnificent lineage and undetermined proclivity would rest with the reassurance of memorial immortality. And yet, even as I cleaned my sword I knew it was an awful lie. The Dead had families who needed them, children who might starve without them. As much as I wanted to tell myself otherwise, there was no glory in the grave.

As I dragged my feet up the slope of the Gate, I saw wives grieve over their fallen husbands. Some wept quietly as they covered familiar faces with shrouds; others wailed in despair to the Heavens, their faces upturned as if asking Illuvatar why they would take the ones they loved. Children with babes in the crooks of their arms stared on in a numbed shock; their eyes devoid of any emotion but incredulous inertia. Helm's Deep was nearly a people destroyed, and I couldn't help but feel angry at Theodin's foolishness. All of this could have been avoided with a little careful planning. Now, the people of Rohan would face the blackness of a victory won with an immense amount of sacrifice.

Making my way up to the Keep, I tried my best to remain stoic, steadfast, and detached. I truly felt sorry for the souls both living and dead. Rohan would persevere, for now, but there was no knowing what the future would bring. Now the people of Theoden had to begin a long march back home, to villages and huts with futures just as uncertain as they were when they left. The men who had come with Eomer's company had no choice but prepare for another battle. Theoden spoke scornfully when Aragorn mentioned that Gondor might call for aid, but I sensed that he was deeply invested in the Fate of Middle Earth, whether for the greater good or his own people. Resting my hand on the rough-hewn stone of the armory, I wondered what possessed anyone to send so many out to die. Orc, human, warg, elf, or goblin...violence seemed a petty pursuit. I understood my father's world-weary expression when he returned from battle. One part anger, another grief, and yet a another a sort of stunned bewilderment. Wearily, I unbuckled my fighting knives and sank into a cross-legged position after retrieving a cloth to clean them. Their sheen was lost under a congealed coating of black and nausea rose in the back of my throat before I pushed it down. Dipping the fabric in a bucket of water, I began the tedious task of cleaning them. It was ritualistic, really. I could have saved it for later but I needed the solitude and the repetitiveness. A small sunbeam filtered in through a chink high in the wall; giving me the necessary light to accomplish my task.

"I thought I'd find you here." I paused, my fingers faltering in their task, and I gave a brief nod to acknowledge my unexpected companion. There was a rustling of boots as the speaker moved to kneel next to me. "I'm surprised you aren't out on the turrets watching the sun rise."

"There is no sun for me today" I said bitterly. "I see only death."

"We've won" Aragorn pointed out.

"You know there's more to it than that" I whispered.

I turned to look at him fully, taking in the sight of his dirt and blood-streaked face. He had shed his protective gear but remained in his tunic, dark bruises blooming over where a mace or the flat of a sword had caved in his armor. His arms bore a great collection of scratches and burns, and his hands were deeply calloused from gripping his sword for so long. Those deep grey eyes were pools of grimness and grief, he and Haldir had been friends for a long time and I knew his death weighed heavily upon him. Strands of dark hair lay in disarray about his shoulders, streaked with ash and soot. I wondered what a mess I looked to him, brought down with the spoils of battle.

"War is never pretty" Aragorn commented, as if reading my thoughts. He took the cloth I was using to clean my knives and set it aside. Strong fingers plucked the weapons from my hands and laid them gently on the floor next to us. He slid forward onto his knees, facing me, and took my chin in his grasp. I trembled as he gazed at me, leaning forward 'till we were but inches apart. I could see every detail of his visage, down to the hairline scratch over his nose. "If you'll forgive me" he whispered. "All I want is a moment."

"You can have it" I laughed, reaching up to trace the contour of his cheek.

There was a coppery taste to his lips, remnants of what had come to pass, along with the mysterious virile flavor that was his and his alone. I let both my hands settle on his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his tunic as I tilted my head upwards. He coaxed me with his mouth until I opened my lips to allow the questing ventures of his tongue and I met it with mine. A great thrill seemed to shiver through me; one borne from despair, uncertainty and exhaustion. His nearness was a balm to my weary soul, and I could only acknowledge how lucky we were. There were many others who would not have the solace of another's arms after such a battle.

I hesitantly rose to my knees to meet him as his kisses left my mouth to continue down my neck. He took his time; blazing a trail of fire from my cheek to my collar, his hands fumbling with the hem of my shirt in order to slip underneath. A humming, reverberating warmth stirred within me as his fingers made contact with my hips and pulled me flush against him. Vaguely, I heard myself moan and tilted my head back as his mouth moved lower. Almost absentmindedly, I coiled my hands in the fabric at the small of his back and drew it away; feeling the smooth yet virile planes of his flesh beneath my fingers. Aragorn shuddered and brought his mouth back to mine, his questing fingers struggling with the lacings to my shirt before tugging them open.

"Aragorn" I muttered, and I winced at the wanton tone of my voice. "We're in the armory-" I gasped as his mouth found the tips of my ears, gently nipping with playful teeth before sliding down to suck at the lobes. "-Aragon!"

My hands shook, and I wanted nothing more than to succumb to his ministrations in the most lascivious and self-serving way possible. His attentions left me helpless in his arms, succumbed to the prurient sweetness of his touch. I knew hardly anything of the pleasures of the flesh; let alone that of those between two men. Aragorn's ministrations were tender, worshipful, but clumsy; and I sensed he had little more experience than I.

"Before you two undress each other completely, I think I ought to step in."

Gimli's gruff voice cut through the sensual serenity of our encounter like a knife against water. Aragorn jerked back and stood abruptly, putting space between us as if he'd been stung. I remained kneeling; my laces hanging open, hiding an extremely prominent physical problem between my thighs. Flushed red, I refused to meet the dwarf's gaze; preferring to stare at the floor and catch my breath. There was a moment of awkward grumbling from our friend.

"You both should know I don't approve" he said finally. Aragorn gave a derisive snort but I didn't look up. "I could tell you that if you decide to come public the world will fall to shambles, but I'm sure you've already thought of that."

"We have" I said shakily, finally meeting his gaze. Gimli looked worried and tired.

"Lads, I know that neither of you would jump in to anything this serious without giving it a bit of thought, but I just want you to think about it. You know I support you, whatever you choose. You deserve to be happy." He sighed. "I just hope you're sure about this."

"Thank you, Gimli" Aragorn said quietly.

The dwarf harrumphed and moved to pick up the cleaning rag I had dropped, removing his axe from his belt.

"I'm to tell you we ride to Isengard come midday" he continued. "Gandalf wants you to be packed and ready." He eyed us sternly. "So no more of...that. We've not the time for it, you know that."

"Of course" I mumbled, embarrassed. "I'm sorry you had to see it."

 _"Och!_ Don't apologize! We're all right happy to have the events of last night done and over with, and I can't blame you for a moment's repast. Just...be more careful where you decide to have such moments."

Aragorn and I didn't get a chance to speak to each other for a long while after that. I left to say a prayer over the graves of my fallen kin. Gandalf joined me and gave his own blessing, his hand on my shoulder in a gesture of comfort. Afterwards, we went to speak with Theoden, who asked us to assist in the burning of the enemy carcasses. This took most of the rest of the morning and was foul and loathsome work. The stench of burning bodies is never pleasant, whether friend or foe. I took it upon myself to visit the caverns to check on the wounded and their families. Aragorn was tending to several people at once and had only the time to pass me dressings and herbs before rushing off to the next patient. As I knelt next to a soldier with a truly awful head wound, I registered two sets of footsteps approaching behind me. Putting down a salve I was applying to the wound, I turned to greet Leofwyn and Gleothain. Both children were incomprehensibly grubby. Leofwyn's face was red and stained with tears and Gleothain was as pale as a ghost.

"Well hello" I said softly. "How good it is to see you both alive and well!"

At this, Leofwyn burst into tears and laid her head on her brother's shoulder. I looked at the elder sibling, who stared back grimly.

"Our Da fell" he said hoarsely, his little hand trembling. "Mama, mama was taken by a warg 'afore we got here."

Leofwyn wailed even more loudly at the mention of her mother and I felt my heart ache.

"I'm sorry" I whispered, reaching out and taking Gleothain's hand. "I know they loved you very much, and they will not be forgotten." The boy's face contorted in a terrible expression of grief. "Is there anything I can do?"

"You was kind to us" Gleothain replied, rubbing roughly at his eyes. "I just wanted to thank you."

I hesitated, at a loss of what to do for the two bereft children before me. Struck with a sudden idea, I reached behind me to rummage in my pack; coming up with a thick package of lembas.

"I know food is scarce" I said quietly, handing the boy the bread wrapped in soft green leaves. "Just one bite of this will keep you full for a long time. It should be enough to last you both a week or two. Keep it, and use it as sparingly as you can."

Gleothain hugged the gift to his chest, his eyes glittering with unshed tears.

"Thank you sir" he said gruffly. "I won't forget it."

Leofwyn rushed forward to embrace me and I caught her more out of surprise than anything. Burrowing her little nose in the crook of my neck she hugged me as if I was the only solid thing in a world full of uncertainty. I could almost have screamed at the injustice of it, but I kept my unhappiness to myself.

"C'mon Leofwyn" Gleothain finally said. "We've got to gather up what Mama left for us."

Sniffling, the little girl did as she was told, and I watched their retreating backs and wondered if there was any fairness left in the world. With a resolve to ensure somewhat of a success in their future, I bandaged my charge and tracked down lady Eowyn at the back of the caverns; she was tending to the food stores with another woman who did not give me her name.

"Leofwyn and Gleothain?" she said confusedly.

I nodded and folded my arms.

"If you want to make up for what you did to Aragorn, that's a good place to start."

She gave me a sharp look.

"He told you?"

I flushed.

"Well...no."

She sighed.

"Legolas, I can't help every man, woman and child in Edoras. What would you have me do? Set them up in my quarters in Edoras?" She grimaced and set down a basket of apples. "Everyone would demand the treatment they were getting, I can't afford to play favorites." I wilted, knowing she was right, and her gaze softened. "What happened to those children was terrible and unfair. But there are other children in the same position, and I can do no more for any of them than the other. Believe me when I say that I am just as invested in their welfare as you are." She smiled crookedly. "Jealous I may be, but cruel to children I am not."

I met up with Aragorn in the stables, and he looked just as harried as I. Saddling Hasufel, he shot me a wry smile and I nodded in greeting before hurrying to tend to Arod. Gimli appeared a few moments later and helped me situate the saddlebags before disappearing 'round a corner to Shadowfax's stall to have a word with Gandalf. Checking my inventory one more time to be sure of myself, I dragged a stepping stool over to Arod for Gimli and slung myself over the horse's side. Aragorn, already leading Hasufel out of the stable, gave me a jaunty wave and I grimaced. I was pleased to be going, though I couldn't say for how long I'd be in such good spirits. Truly, I hoped to never see Helm's Deep ever again, if I could help it. The memory of my kin perishing beside me would ever haunt my mind, and I had no desire to stay where they had fallen.

To my surprise, Gimli opted to ride with Gandalf; stating that he'd like the chance to boast of riding such a fine horse to his kin. Shadowfax was none too happy about the sudden development, and made it perfectly clear that this was a one time event, and we were to never expect another. Gandalf himself said nothing of Gimli's sudden affectation to his horse, but gave Aragorn and I a look that left me very uncomfortable. After eating a quick lunch we were swiftly on our way after stopping to farewell Theoden. Gandalf seemed all but sure that Saruman had been defeated, though we could not get him to say how. We were all used to the air of mystery that surrounded the old wizard and didn't press him for more information. There was no breeze, and the sun warming our backs was pleasant enough. Gandalf regaled us of his travels of yore and we spent the afternoon in pleasant company. We were ever-watchful of orcs, as I was sure that some had to have escaped during the battle, but we came across none. After some time, when Gandalf and Gimli had drawn a good distance ahead, Aragorn brought Hasufel close to me in order to have a private conversation.

"I'm sorry for putting you in such a situation this morning" he commented, drawing hard on the reigns.

"It was my fault as much as yours" I replied. "I'm just glad it was Gimli who found us." I shuddered. "Imagine if it was Theoden."

"Don't even speak of it!" Aragorn exclaimed in horror. He glanced ahead, to make sure we were out of earshot of our companions. "I've been meaning to ask you...how much do you know of...?" He gestured incomprehensibly. I raised an eyebrow and he flushed. "I mean...I've never, I'd always thought I'd save myself for Arwen."

"Have I ever been intimate with anyone else?" I asked, catching his meaning, and he nodded. "I've been kissed, if that's what you're asking. But I've never...slept with anyone. Elves don't 'sleep around', as some would say." I absentmindedly itched my ear. "You have never...?"

"No" he said awkwardly. "Not with anyone. I mean, Arwen and I kissed but I'm afraid I'm rather as ignorant as you are."

"I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing" I commented pensively. "But we should be careful of doing anything too forward." I hesitated. "You should know that elves mate for life. If we were to ever...be consummate, I would not be capable of taking another."

"I'd like to marry you" he said abruptly after a moment of silence. I fumbled with Arod's reigns in suprise. Glancing over to meet his gaze, I saw he was utterly serious. "I don't want this to be some sort of fling, Legolas."

"And I just told you that there's no way it can be" I replied patiently. "But...Aragorn, is it even possible?"

He sighed and seemed to regain himself.

"We promised we'd not worry about this until after the war" he muttered. "But if I'm to keep groping you around every corner it's going to get very hard."

"You paint it as if I'm some daft-headed maiden with no self-control and little brain" I smirked. "Keep in mind Aragorn, that if I did not want you to kiss me I'd just throw you across the room."

"Yes, you're awfully romantic" he groaned. "I can't promise you I can slow down." He looked sternly at me. "You must employ violence if I'm too forward."

"Oh, I'm not going to stop you" I said lightly. "You're just going to have to control yourself."

"That's hardly fair!"

Grinning, I spurred Arod forward, closing theh space between us and Shadowfax. Aragorn gave chase and I laughed, my heart lightened by love and the thought that no matter how dark the future, I would always have a light at my side. Therefore, I missed the concerned glances that Gandalf threw at us while Gimli chuckled along. And when we came across Merry and Pippin at the White Tower, I looked not to the thought of death and destruction, but the hopeful repose that comes in its wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title Translation**  
>  For what purpose?
> 
> A/N  
> You probably noticed I skipped over the entire battle of Helm's Deep. This was intentional (I've said that before haven't I?). Basically, for those of you familiar with the series, it felt like dragging the readers along a backdrop that they've already seen at least once before. I don't technically like repeating what has already been written, though I have taken Aragorn and Legolas through the times of the Fellowship in order to build a concrete base to their relationship. Originally, this was going to be the very first love scene, but something in me told me it wasn't yet time. Their relationship, at this point, is still in its early days...romantically anyways.


	22. Abarad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Merry and Pippin are reunited with the remaining members of the Fellowship_

"Merry, pass me some of your Lembas."

Sitting next to the fire, I watched in amusement as the mentioned hobbit gave an incredulous yelp and jumped away from his cousin, holding the precious packet to his chest.

"You'll have none of mine! I've saved it from Lorien I have, and it's your own fault you haven't got any."

"You know as well as I that those Uruk-Hai took mine" Pippin wailed. "And I'm hungry!"

"You've had your supper and then some!" Merry groused.

"Hold on" I said calmly, reaching into my pack. "I have some tucked away." Handing Pippin a loaf, I gave him a stern look. "Don't eat it all right now, you only need a bite to be full."

"One bite" he echoed eagerly, snatching up the lembas.

I rolled my eyes as he proceeded to take a bite that reduced the loaf to half. Aragorn chuckled next to me and stirred the fire. We were on our way back to Edoras, having retrieved the Hobbits from the Ents. I'd been overjoyed to meet such creatures from tales of yore. Ever have I talked to trees, but never had I spoken with ones so animated and ancient. It was an honor I will likely never forget, and I held it close to my heart. Gimli was less than impressed with what he liked to call 'vocal shrubbery.' Trees belonged rooted into the ground; stretching silent and taciturn to the skies in wordless longevity. I thought his opinions of traditional things rather dull and unimaginative but I wasn't going to try and change them.

"And how fares my love?" Aragorn murmured, when the others had engaged in conversation.

I smiled at him and tucked the lembas back into my pack.

"Better, now that you have called me so."

Surreptitiously, his hand brushed mine; like the touch of a butterfly's wing. I sighed, and curled his fingers around my own, committing the rough texture of his skin to memory. He let go after a moment and I reached for my waterskin, soothing my throat momentarily before tucking it away. The stars above us twinkled softly through interlocking branches. We were in a fair glade, overlooking the planes we would traverse come the next morning. The trees whispered softly in the night air; leaves gently brushing against one another in a soft language all their own. The rustle of a cloak behind me gave me pause, and I looked back to meet the shrewd eyes of Gandalf the White.

"I would have a word with you, Legolas" he rumbled.

"Of course" I replied, surprised.

He gestured to a darkened area, away from the fire and I rose to my feet to comply. Aragorn watched me with hooded eyes and I ventured a small smile before hurrying away. The old wizard situated us underneath a towering oak and pulled out his pipe. He stared pensively at me for a moment, as if weighing his words. I shifted from foot to foot, suddenly nervous, though I could not say why.

"Often" Gandalf began carefully. "The wants of the heart outweigh the gains of a sound mind."

I felt my spirits sink as I realized of what we were speaking of. Really, I should have expected it, nothing escaped the Maiar's watchfulness for long.

"I love him" I said softly.

"I'm sure you do" he said calmly. "But you must be sensible, Greenleaf. There is no future for either of you."

"I don't believe that" I replied, my voice coming out harsher than I intended.

"Your father will not approve, young one. Neither will the Kingdom of Gondor."

"I am not so young" I replied stubbornly. "And I care not for anyone's approval."

He sighed and his bushy brows drew together in an expression of resignation.

"I know you are sure of your emotions, Legolas. But you must know that your decision is perilous." His cloak rustled as he thumped the ground with his staff. "You will be miserable for a very long time, I'm afraid."

"How can I be miserable when I am loved?" I whispered. A whip-poor-will trilled a mournful tune in the branches above us. "Gandalf, my whole life I have searched for this love, this...acceptance. I'd be a fool to walk away from it."

Gandalf puffed exasperatedly on his pipe, great clouds blooming before him as he attempted to stave off his impatience.

"You do know of the...gifts bestowed upon you should your relationship become physical" he growled.

"Yes" I replied shortly, flushing red.

"...And you have told Aragorn?" I blushed deeper and he harrumphed. "You need to tell him, no shock would be greater to the poor lad than knowing he had sired an heir without thinking it was possible."

"If you'll forgive me" I said tightly. "I don't think it is any of your business."

"I'm very invested in the fate of Hobbits, Men, Elves, Dwarves and all other creatures of Middle-Earth alike" he said sternly. "And you bearing a child out of wedlock to an unsuspecting future King of Men concerns me greatly."

"I would never do such a thing!" I cried, and the group next to the fire grew silent, looking our way. "How could you think me so lecherous and ungracious that I would?" I hissed, lowering my voice. " You act as if I've seduced him somehow and that I seek to tie myself to him with some ill-begotten offspring-"

"-Enough!" the old wizard cut in. "I'll say no more, and I regret that I've upset you. But I want you to know that I do not support either of you, I think it is a foolish and dangerous venture." He put out his pipe and put it back in his pocket. "I hope you know what you are doing, Legolas. This could ruin both of you beyond any hope of repair, I see nothing but grief in your future. You are both next in line for incredibly vital inheritance; and I can almost guarantee you that the possibility of either of you retaining a throne is next to nil should you continue on as you are. You are strong, resilient individuals and no finer leaders could be placed in your stead, and yet you choose to throw it away. "

He left me then, and I sank down into the grass, suddenly as weak as I'd ever been. I'd expected his disapproval, but not on such a strong scale. Ever had I counted Gandalf a friend, and I knew he would never betray me, but I felt as if he'd turned his back on any hope of me making a name for myself. It was some small comfort that Gimli approved, but he knew little of the prejudices of ruling. Covering my face with my hands I breathed in deeply, trying to dispel the trembling in my limbs. The _ant en hin_ was reserved for darker times, when elven births became scarce and far between. I was possibly the last, and certainly the only one alive with such proclivities. It had been made known to me when I was fifty, and I was greatly troubled by it. At the time, I'd wanted neither love nor children. I was young and looked only to freedom and adventure. The idea of telling Aragorn terrified me. I'd pushed it so far from my mind that I'd forgotten about it 'till Gandalf had brought it forth. And yet, I knew I would have to tell him, no matter how strange and unearthly it might be. It was said to be a gift from the Ainulindale, and precious beyond belief. I thought it nothing but strange. It separated me physically from my male and female counterparts, and made me naught but a freak. For a long time after I had thought myself an abomination, though my Adar and the Healers had tried to convince me it was not so. The soft sound of footsteps announced Aragorn's approach, and I squeezed my eyes shut. A friendly hand fell upon my shoulder and I forced myself to look at him, to acknowledge that this was the man who loved me, and there was little I could do to stop myself from loving him.

"I take it Gandalf told you his opinion of us" the dark-haired man said quietly.

"Aye" I said, a bitter vein of laughter running through my voice. "He certainly did."

Aragorn sighed and knelt beside me, allowing an appropriate space between us.

"I knew he would not approve" he said calmly.

"He thinks I've bewitched you" I said bitterly.

"Gandalf looks only to our future" my love replied, toying with the hilt of his sword. "And he knows that our future will be very dark now that we have chosen each other."

I looked up to meet his stormy eyes and smiled gently.

"Aragorn, as long as I am with you, I could face a tide of screaming advisors and hundreds of my Adars and be the happiest elf in the world."

His gaze softened and he cupped my cheek.

"And I the happiest man" he murmured. "But don't be angry with Gandalf for worrying for our future. We both have great responsibilities to uphold, and we must honor them whether together or apart."

I was helpless to disagree with him. Ever had my friend been the wisest of men. And so when Merry and Pippin called us back to join them at the fire, I sent a small smile to Gandalf whose eyes crinkled at the edges. I knew I could always count him a friend and adviser, no matter how dire a situation I might face. There was little more I could ask of him than that.  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Pippin was over-curious, and I did not hold his curiosity against him. To stare into the face of Evil is a horrible, mind-bending thing. To look into the Palantir of Orthanc must have been akin to gazing into the mind of Saruman himself. I had gained glimpses into the minds of things tortured, and it was no easy task to remain there. Pippin was lucky not to be dead from Sauron squeezing his mind like a vice. Still, he had acquired urgent and useful information. Gondor was to be attacked by Sauron, and whatever we could do to ready them for such a battle would be paramount. Pippin and Gandalf left for Gondor the very next day, and it was as if they had never been. Merry was downcast and upset, but there was no other way. I wished the best for him, and hoped he remained unharmed and hopeful.

Edoras was recovering from battle, but slowly. The children who were left parentless were set up in a makeshift orphanage, where they learned hunting, trapping, and trade. All of them were overseen by widowed wives with no children of their own. Lady Eowyn had set up a patronage system that kept everyone as comfortable as was possible. The rest of the townsfolk were forced to return to their homes and rebuild what was left of their lives. Often, I looked upon ruined houses and burnt crops wondering how in the world anything could be recovered from such tragedy.

I visited Gleothain and Leofwyn, but more often than not they were busy. Neither child was overly sociable when I caught them in quiet moments. They seemed caught in some terrible limbo; torn between accepting the death of their parents and pretending they never had any in the first place. I spent several afternoons teaching Gleothain to hold a bow properly, and Leofwyn wanted nothing but someone to brush her hair quietly-without speaking-while she gazed off at nothing in particular. My time spent with them reminded me of the fact that children were possible in my future, should I want it, and that I would have to tell Aragorn sooner or later. I caught him many times, watching me sit with Leofwyn; a wistful yet resigned look on his face.

We had little time to spend together. Aragorn had been tasked with rebuilding several barns alongside Gimli, and Eowyn often called me to help her with the children.

"You have a way with them" she said softly, as we stood over half a dozen motherless babes. We'd just put the last of them to sleep, and would tend to the older ones soon after. "I know you'd rather be aiding the men, but you're a great help." She smiled earnestly. "I shall be very sorry when you go."

And so it was that I earned nicknames such as 'Leglas, Gowldin, Ears, and on the rare occasion 'ma'; which I quickly put a stop to. Gimli found it all uproariously funny and teased me terribly. 'Tis a strange thing, to be hugged with sticky fingers and tugged with grubby hands only to love every single minute of it. I saw it as an adventure, with many tiny companions to guide my way. If anything, it was a repast to the bloody grimness of weeks past and I welcomed it. Still, there was always the looming darkness of war, and the ominous but unavoidable fact that we would have to leave eventually. My fingers wouldn't be used to teach children their letters, but to fire arrows into the hearts of my enemies; and the tongue that sang rhymes and riddles would cry out in the fierceness of battle. I went to bed with the songs of childhood, but knew I could wake to the call of the war horn at any given time. 'Tis the darker, insidious things in life that keep us sober.  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________

"How did you manage it?!"

Stuck under a squawking pile of angry chickens, Gimli could do little more than wave a helpless arm in response. Feathers were flying across the courtyard in Edoras along with the cacophony of four-score furious hens who seemed Valinor-bent on pecking the helpless dwarf to his very ruin.

"I kicked the rooster for sitting atop my axe!" my hapless friend howled. "If I'd known the ladies were so keen on him, I'd never have done it!"

Trying to shake off an almost uncontrollable desire to laugh until I fell to the cobblestones, I made a weak attempt to shoo the animals away. A brown and white-speckled fowl gave me a look that seemed to assure my imminent demise and I stepped back with my lips twitching. Just as I was debating on firing a few arrows into the cloud-like, feathery mass that was obscuring my friend, Aragorn came tearing across the courtyard and sent the chickens flying every which way. He didn't stop to wait for the cloud of feathers to settle, preferring to plow a way through in the direction of the throne room. Fascinated as to what could have caused such reckless abandon in my paramour I followed at a safe distance with Gimli close behind. Taking the steps two at a time, our dark-haired friend burst into the Hall where Theoden and his advisers were having a conference.

"The beacons of Gondor are lit!" he shouted. "Gondor calls for aid."

Theoden gave him a weighted look, his brows furrowed in consternation. I felt my heart beating wildly in my chest as we waited for an answer. Gimli worried his beard as a great silence filled the hall.

"And Rohan will answer" the King growled, standing from his throne.

There were a great amount of cheers, and Aragorn looked fiercely jubilant. I felt my heart sink as I realized that Rohan would have to face another battle, but knew that it was necessary. If Gondor and the Rohirrim were to remain on good terms, it would be good for the Horse Lords to behoove them in their time of need. Still, I could not help but feel apprehensive of the weight of war, and the disaster that comes with it.

Plans were made to set out for Gondor as soon as possible. Theoden did not like to waste time in preparation, and did not see why anything should be delayed for the sake of novelty. I was surprised at their haste, but saw it necessary. Aragorn and Theoden immediately set out to plan for battle, and I hovered in the shadows and listened closely. We would stop to camp under the shadows of the White Mountains, to which many of the men gave great protest. When asked, they told me it was a cursed place, and that a pass that went through them was known as the Paths of the Dead. No man who entered thus came out alive. Aragorn was strangely silent as they told me the tale of the Men of the Mountains and Isildur's curse, and I sensed there was more that he had not deigned to tell me but did not press him for it. So it was that within few days time we set out for Gondor, with the knowledge that we may very well be going to our deaths. Gleothain and Leofwyn bade me a tearful goodbye, and made me swear to come and see them. It reminded me of Aragorn, so many years ago in Rivendell when he had begged me to visit with a promise. I desperately hoped that this time, I would be able to keep it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title Translation**  
>  Until Tomorrow
> 
> **General Translations**  
>  ant et hin-gift of children (roughly)


	23. I Follow You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Aragorn admits to Elrond that his feelings for Arwen are no more._

I was hurting Arwen.

Gazing down at Anduril, I felt a tightness in my chest. My adoptive father sat across from me, cloaked and seemingly unhappy. I knew his thoughts; he was marrying his daughter to a mortal man who would surely make her miserable. He rode to do her bidding, bringing me the shards of Narsil forged anew into a magnificent blade. It shone softly in the lamplight, incandescent and terrible, the sword of a King. I sighed and sheathed the blade, a heavy weight in my chest. We sat in a makeshift tent, under the White Mountains. The Paths of the Dead were but a few hundred feet away, and I could feel the looming presence of the Perished within. Around us, the sounds of a busy camp buzzed, barely muted by the cloth that enclosed us. The elves were leaving, so Elrond told me, and Arwen had the opportunity to go with them. My sensible mind told me to go on with duty. I should marry Arwen and sire countless children, setting my name and my memory in stone long after I passed away. I would rule as a proper man; a careful and conscious monarch with my beautiful wife and precious brood. Even as the vision rose in my mind I wanted to cast it from me, my heart bringing forth an image of Legolas, cast away and broken, Fading from the lack of my love. Arwen loved me, to be sure. But she did not love me enough to die for me, I knew that and it gave me comfort. I could cast her away and she would go to Valinor with her father and live out her immortality among family and friends. She would find another who cared for her more deeply than I did and be happy. Now, I had to tell my father, her father.

Looking across the space between us I knew he would hate me, but out of a sense of propriety. He did not want his daughter to marry me. I was mortal, perishable, and she would suffer for it. No father wants to see their child wed into woe. Still, I was sure I could never call him my Adar after I told him, and so I hesitated. I ran through every precious memory; I recalled him carrying me to bed after a long day at play. I remembered him teaching me my letters, his hand resting gently on my back as I spelled out vowels in the Tongue of Man, Sindarin, and Quenya. My mind was filled with the memory of Rivendell, of waking up and running to the man who had taken me in and loved me so dearly. A great sadness overcame me as I realized that I would likely never feel that love again. It pained me to send him home with such ill news, but to keep it from his was traitorous. I could not wait for Arwen to come riding up to the alter only to toss her away. I would not be that kind of man.

"Adar" I said wearily. _"Goheno-nin."_

He looked at me then, with wise and tired eyes. Ever had I thought him grand. Even as a young boy, when I was still his precious _Ionneg_ , I could see the proud majesty in my foster father. Much of it had passed into Arwen, in her proud gaze and indeterminable stare. I suppose that was why I was so attached to her, because she was so much like the man I so fervently admired. Both of them were scions of their proud heritage, born of noble blood and honest love. King I might be, but my history was ravaged with rashness and poor judgment. I was a seed of Isildur; welcomed into a sacred house with indeterminable weight.

"What are you sorry for, _Ionneg_?" he said gently, and I winced at the kindness in his eyes.

Putting Anduril down, I got up and knelt by him. His eyes widened in surprise, but he carefully recovered himself by placing a hand on my shoulder. I bowed my head and gathered myself.

"For as long as I can remember" I said shakily. "I have only wanted what was best for my people. Gondor needs a good King, with a wise ruler and an honest heritage." I swallowed roughly. "Arwen would be a good Queen. She is noble, wise, and good-hearted. I would look to her for advice and love, and I thought we would be terribly happy together."

"What are you saying?" Elrond pressed. "Arwen is certainly all of those things, and so she will make you truly happy."

I shook my head and he stilled, his hand dropping from my shoulder. Slowly, he rose and crossed the tent to stand in a shadowed corner away from me.

"Forgive me" I whispered. "But I do not love Arwen, not enough that I would marry her."

There was a silence between us. I dared not look at him, keeping my gaze on the grassy ground beneath me.

"I do not pretend to understand how you would come to this conclusion, after courting her for so long" he said coldly.

"It was not my intention" I said bitterly. "But the Lady Galadriel saw it long before I did, and now I must confess she was right."

"There is another" he said after a long silence, and the disbelief in his voice made me flinch. "Another has captured you so utterly that you would turn away that which you have pursued for centuries!"

"Adar" I said desperately. "It was not my choice, but I cannot marry Arwen, 'twould be unfair, unkind and dishonest."

"Who is she?!" he demanded roughly. "Who have you had the chance to love during your time on this mission? Surely you have never had the time!"

There was a rustle, and the flap to my tent parted. To my horror, Legolas came striding in with a worried look on his face. He carried his bow in his arms and had an arrow knocked. Not noticing Elrond, who sat in a dark corner, he strode over to me.

_"Meleth-nin, prestad?_ I heard raised voices, but I see you are alone" he stopped and frowned. "Why do you kneel?"

"Legolas" I said tightly, nodding in the direction of Elrond. "If you would leave us?"

Glancing 'round, I watched as the blonde-haired elf turned ghostly white. Elrond said nothing but eyed him expressionlessly. Legolas stood for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but at a strangled pleading sound from me, he strode to the exit. Glancing back he seemed to struggle with himself before murmuring _'forgive me'_ and vanishing into the night. The silence that followed him was deafening. The tension in the air was a nearly physical form, sinking its way into my throat and rendering me incapable of speech. My face burned in shame, and I found myself near-hysterical.

_"Meleth-nin?"_ he echoed, and his voice was barely above a whisper. " _That_ is who has trumped your affection for Arwen?" I found myself panicked, incapable of responding, whether it was to defend myself or plead forgiveness. "You cast aside an _elleth_ in favor of a future King...you are ambitious indeed."

"I don't love him for his title" I protested, finally finding my voice. "I love him for who he is."

"He is the Morningstar of Mirkwood, Prince of the Woodland realm and heir to the throne" Elrond replied. "And you are heir to the Throne of Gondor, yet you seek also to claim the Kingdom of the elves."

"I seek no land and no status" I cried. "I seek only to make him happy, to make us happy."

"Listen to yourself! Only months ago you were proclaiming the beauty of Arwen was akin to a sky full of stars! And now you chase a veritable legend's son."

"I chase no one" I replied evenly. "It was he who came to me first, I would have hidden my feelings and taken them to the grave if he'd not confessed to me." Elrond stood then, and the expression on his face was terrible. It was one part disappointment, another disgust, and even more so anger. I had let him down horribly, and nothing could assuage the guilt that I felt knowing it. My mother had given me to him hoping that he could raise me to be a proper King; noble, good, and immovable. A sickening laugh bubbled in my chest and my foster father recoiled as if I had struck him. "How far it must seem I have fallen" I said thickly. "There was a time when I would have put my feelings aside and married Arwen to keep face. But now that I know he loves me back, I can't possibly do that. I won't dishonor either of them in such a vile fashion."

"You dishonor me" he said lowly, and sucked in my breath through my teeth. "You dishonor me and you dishonor my daughter. Arwen will sail with her kind, and maybe she is blessed for it. I'd not have her tied up with the likes of you for all the riches in the world."

So my father and I parted ways, with the bitterness of his resentment ringing in my ears. I told myself I could face it, that I could accept his rejection and disdain and still live with myself. But the little boy inside me, who had loved him so long and so honestly, crumbled into dust. I wanted to cry, to wail at his retreating back; but I forced myself to remain silent. I would not beg his forgiveness, I did not deserve it. I had slandered his house and his name with countless promises that would now amount to naught. Arwen would not be a Queen, she would disappear into the memories of the earth with naught but a whisper. Her presence would fade across the sea, into the indeterminable depths of aqueous vision. I still loved her, as a sibling and a friend, and I deeply regretted thinking that we could be anything more. A fierce ache rose in my chest as I realized that I no longer had that privilege; I could never again look to her wisdom or gentleness. I had lost that right, as I had lost my family. Surely, my brothers Elladan and Elrohir wouldn't abide by me once they learned the truth. At once, I had lost my house, and my standing within elf-kind. Maybe Galadriel would forgive me as it was she who had foreseen it, but Celeborn most certainly would not. There was a rustling at the tent flaps again, and Legolas came through with a hesitant expression. Still kneeling, I gazed up at him; at the cerulean blueness of his concerned eyes and the drawn arc of his brows. He wore his hunting garb, the simple soft greens and browns of the forest where he was raised, and I wondered how much he would resent me if he lost it. I held him no ill will, I'd had a choice to end our relationship, and I'd decided against it. Slender, pale fingers took mine and I let him draw me to my feet. We stood together, inches apart as he searched my face.

"Estel" he said softly, tracing my face with a soft index finger.

"He is gone" I whispered. "It is done."

The sympathy in his eyes was overwhelming, I wanted to push him away from me, inundated as I was.

" _Ai_ , Aragorn" he murmured.

I shattered.

My emotions fell to pieces before him as I leaned forward and rested my head on his shoulders. His hand rose up to cup the back of my head while the other caressed my cheek. No words fell between us as I let my suddenly overdamp eyes soak his tunic. He said nothing, only crooned nonsensical murmurs into my ear. His breath was warm ghosting across my face and I let it comfort me as nothing else would. Nothing could take back what I had done, but I let myself have the small selfishness of knowing I still held his heart. The sounds of men preparing for battle surrounded us, but it dimmed in the face of my despair and uncertainty. Never had I done such a hard and terrible thing, and I wondered if I could possibly make up for it in my lifetime. When I had settled some, I drew back and looked at him squarely. He gazed gravely at me, his eyes full of sympathy and comfort.

"Legolas" I said hoarsely. "If there was ever a time I would ask you to reconsider, it would be now. I would never ask you to leave your family. I had no right to marry Arwen, regardless of whether we were together or not. But I would not ask you to fall out of favor with your father."

He smiled crookedly and brushed a lock of hair away from my face.

"You silly man" he whispered. "Wherever you go, I follow. And to Valinor whoever dislikes me for it."

I crushed my lips to his, tasting the salt of my tears mixed with the lightness of his mouth. He froze for a moment, then melted into me, a soft sigh issuing between us. It was not a kind kiss, it was filled with desperation, sorrow, and hopelessness. I wound my fingers through his hair and tugged him closer, melding him to me in a gesture of confused desperation. His fingers dug into my forearms, forming soft half-moons where they fell before climbing up to grip my shoulders.

Legolas' arms wound 'round my waist and I shuddered, leaving his mouth to press my lips against the hollow of this throat. He lifted his chin for me, a soft groan passing from his lips only for me to swallow it down. The air had grown thick and slow, a languorous heat suffusing it with a honeyed intoxication. The confined recesses of the tent swam and the torches seemed to grow dim. My fingers found the laces of his mossy tunic and I tugged them open and pressed my tongue against the sloping descent of his chest. A gasp was torn from him and within moments we had rid him of his shirt; it slithered to the ground between our feet in a cascade of emerald fabric.

Pressing my hand to the small of his back, I let my knee slip between his legs as my mouth hunted the curl of his shoulders, dragging a faintly glimmering path across alabaster skin. My hands gripped the soft and supple curve of his hips, which undulated hesitantly against me as soft whimpers fell from those butter-soft lips. He clung desperately to my shoulder, a hand gripping my hair to hold me in place. A faint sheen of perspiration clung to his skin in a paper-thin layer as he flushed from my attentions, the musk of his desire rising to cling to the air around us in a delicate concupiscence. When my tongue found the whorl of a rosy nipple he gave a soft cry, a hand rising to cover his face in a gesture that was one part lust and another embarrassment.

"What have I told the two of you about your ' _moments_!'" Gimli's enraged shout sent Legolas flying across the room, his shirt gathered in front of him as he stumbled over a low-lying chair and landed on his rump. I remained where I was, glaring at the short-statured dwarf standing at the entrance to the tent with a hand on his hip. His axe was in his grip and his eyes were glittering with insurmountable irritation. "By Kili's Curly Kilt you'd think you both needed a chaperone!" He waved his weapon in a menacing fashion. "If you two are caught you'll cause a riot that'll span the length of the Misty Mountains to the Icebay of Forochel! Put your shirt on!" He barked at Legolas. "I won't warn you again! Theoden's been searching for you Aragorn, and I expect he wouldn't be pleased to find you locking lips with the Prince of Mirkwood no matter how much you claim to care for each other."

"I'm going" Legolas muttered, scrambling out the tent.

I watched him retreat with a faint feeling of amusement. Gimli growled a few curses before barging his way out to search for his disgruntled friend. A few moments later, Theoden came calling and I was immensely grateful to our dwarven watchman. He seemed wary of finding me in such a disheveled state but asked no questions. We briefly discussed his tactics before he launched into a tirade about Eowyn wanting to go to war. I listened sympathetically and commented carefully, all too aware of the consequences of a wrong word here or there. Once he had exhausted himself, the King of Rohan ordered me to go to sleep and prepare to ride out the next day. All-too-aware of the other duties that I had to uphold, I nodded resignedly and bid him a goodnight.

Once alone, I sat down to consider my way forward. Regardless of the fact that I'd lost Elrond's trust, I knew he expected me to go forward into the Paths of The Dead. No matter where my heart lay, I had a duty to perform and it would do me well not to shirk it. Picking Anduril up, I drew it from its sheath and observed it once more. This was the blade that had brought Sauron to his ruin many ages before, and yet its wielder had not been strong enough to resist the will of the Ring. I was suddenly very glad that Frodo was so far away with his perilous charge. It seemed all too dangerous to have two so very synonymous pieces of history anywhere near each other. I hadn't told Legolas or Gimli, it seemed too perilous a quest to ask them to go with me. I had heard the legends of the ways that I would walk, and didn't think it right to bring anyone into such danger. I gazed at Anduril a while longer, wondering if I even had the right to wield it anymore. I had the bloodline and the tutelage, but I was unsure if I was worthy. After a time, I rose to gather what belongings I would need. I took only the basic necessities; food, water, my weapons, and my healing herbs. I'd long before learned not to go anywhere without the means to restore oneself to good health. It wouldn't matter if I received a mortal wound, but it was good to be cautious. Once fully prepared, I crept out of my tent and hastened to saddle Hasufel. The great horse balked, as if already knowing where we were going but I soothed him and offered an apple. Riding silently through camp I regretted going in such a secretive way, Theoden would surely think I'd deserted. Just as I was on the edge of the camp, facing the great gulf in front of me, Eowyn stepped into my path. Hasufel spooked but I quickly quieted him. The White Flower of Rohan gazed gravely at me, her mouth set in a thin line.

"Where do you go?" she said softly, coming to my side.

"I go to find aid for Gondor's armies" I replied stiffly.

"We have need of you here" she replied, sounding desperate. "Do not leave us now, in our hour of need." She hesitated, then spoke again. "Don't leave me."

"You've never had me" I said lowly, drawing on the reigns. "By now you ought to know that. I'm sorry, but I cannot give you what you seek."

She drew away as if stung, and watched in dazed disbelief as I urged Hasufel forward. I did not look at her, preferring to stare at the way forward. She would think me weak or afraid, but I cared not. I would prefer her to see me as a coward than a possible husband. I'd led one woman on for far too long, I'd not do the same to another. There was no glory or justice in unrequited love, only grief and sorrow. The sounds of the camp grew faint as I approached the Dimholt, Hasufel's hooves muffled by the stifling oppression that surrounded me. As I approached the yawning crevice, a lithe figure darted out in front of me. Legolas stared reproachfully up at me, his blue eyes glittering in the starlight. He led Arod by the reigns and my heart both leapt and sank at the same time.

"And where do you think you're going?" came Gimli's growling voice.

"Not this time" I said wearily. "This time you must stay."

"Have you learned nothing of the stubbornness of dwarves?" Legolas said lightly.

"You might as well accept it, we're going with you laddie."

I left many things behind that night. I acknowledged that I'd not only broken one heart, but possibly two. My father more than likely hated me, and would continue to hate me for a long time to come. Theoden would ride out to meet the Black Armies of Mordor thinking the man he'd planned the attack with had run for his life. But in the end, I had my friends by my side, and the wind at my back. If the dead should decide to keep me in the depths of the mountain, they could not change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **General Translations**
> 
> Goheno-nin-Forgive me
> 
> Ionneg-my son
> 
> Meleth-nin-my love
> 
> Prestad?-Is there trouble?.
> 
> A/N This is it for today. I'll be back with more tomorrow.
> 
> R&R


	24. Death, Combat, and Monarchy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Aragorn commands the Armies of the Dead._

Some say it is easy to face death.

I'd be inclined to agree, if I didn't know any better. Death is inevitable, final and uncompromising. It threatens all things mortal, none of us are free from its grasp. So it seems logical that we should accept it, embrace it if possible. No one who has traversed the paths at the end of life can offer insight to what lies beyond. Our bodies are put into graves or left to rot on battlefields. Empty eyes stare into crypts and desolate skies as the world moves on without us. Better that we acknowledge our demise than fight it 'till the end of days. What good could come from conflict with the essence that steals the breath of even the greatest of men?

Traversing the Paths of the Dead, I could not help but think that Death was cruel. The barren, bone-white path we traveled was desolate; bereft of any beauty or life. Maybe it was the curse, or the bitterness of those who dwelt in such barren lands; maybe it was the dull and echoing memories of a people once lost. I couldn't help but feel that to die there would be a terrible thing, caught between the vices of release and confinement.

We talked for a long while as we started out. Gimli had a great interest in the mountains in that area. He claimed they were good rock for mining, and had half a mind to suggest them to the elders when he returned home from the quest. Legolas was worried that the horses would spook the closer we got to our destination. As noble and proud as our steeds were, few animals were able to withstand the horrors of the undead. I myself had had few encounters with the ethereal; my inexperience bothered me somewhat, though I couldn't say why. After a time, the sense of oppression that had niggled at the back of our minds became a full-fledged cloud of malice and dissension. Our conversation became less frequent as we became more focused on reaching our destination without succumbing to despair and confusion. Gimli seemed hardest hit by the sinister presence of the dead, and there was little I could do to comfort him.

When we reached the Black Door, the horses did bolt, and I wondered if we would ever see them again. As my companions followed me into darkness, I was once again struck by the value of friendship. I was sure that no others would have accompanied me through such peril. The King of the Mountain Men spoke to me with a reverential disdain. He did not respect me, but he feared my power, and he certainly feared Anduril. The rest of the Dead fell in deference to him, and we were a grim company. A procession of living corpses were at my back, and we rode to war; it was an uncanny experience. When I asked him in later years, Legolas said it was the sole most unsettling experience of his life. Blood and Death in battle were horrifying enough without commanding the Dead to rise and slaughter your foes.

So it was that we left the shadows of a ghostly Minas Tirith, and made our way to the River Anduin to besiege the black ships from the South. Though never one to boast, it would be a lie to say the men on the vessels had any chance against the river of undead that overcame them. Indeed, if we were not so invested in participating in Sauron's demise Gimli, Legolas and I could have sat back with nothing to do. Once we had overwhelmed our seriously outnumbered enemies we set sail for Gondor with the wind at our backs and the sounds of battle ahead.  
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Fifty six! Gimli roared over the sounds of the raging battle. "Fifty six and if you kill any less, you've got to meet my mother!"

I watched out of the corner of my eye as Legolas turned white at the very thought. Carving a path through the Black Armies of Mordor, the two were still making kill wagers. About us, the dead brought the hoard down in droves. Like ants consuming a corpses, they overwhelmed in great waves of ghostly green; felling oliphaunts like sinking ships and tearing trebuchets to splinters. The iron grey of the sky slowly parted to reveal beams of sunlight, further agitating our enemies. Caught in combat with foes of my own, I was unable to observe the work of my comrades. Taking a moment to adjust my grip on Anduril, I threw a rough jab to my left; effectively stunning the orc who had been creeping up to stab me under my ribs. A great fire was spreading across the ground in front of me, following a dark line of pitch that had spilled from a catapult. I jumped the flames and raced after a retreating cave troll, thrusting in and up; effectively piercing its heart.

"Sixty eight!" came a jubilant shout to my right, and I watched as Legolas came sliding down the back-end of a Mountain Giant, knocking an arrow and hitting a goblin straight between its eyes. "Sixty nine!"

Chuckling, I cast my gaze away, suddenly finding myself with nothing to kill. The battlefield was awash with our enemies, the sere few left crumbling beneath the weight of Gondor, Rohan, and the armies of the Dead. Legolas stared at me, his face a grim tapestry of blood and dirt; his expression a stern caricature of a victory hard-won. I smiled at him, watching as those blue eyes filled with a momentary warmth, before turning to assess the damage around us. We had suffered devastating losses, there was no avoiding the truth. Men had fought only to inevitably die, much like in Helm's Deep. I grieved inwardly for the families left without fathers and sons.

I released the armies of the dead reluctantly, though I had no option to keep them. They had fulfilled their oath, even if their aid would come in handy in later battles. I knew Sauron still had a greater force closeted behind the Black Gates of Mordor. Should he choose to unleash it, I did not think Gondor would be able to stand. However, Isildur's curse was very clear, and I would not do my name further dishonor by holding the Dead to the earth longer than I had to. Gimli, Legolas and I watched as the army dissipated with a sense of unrest. Sauron's rage would be truly great now that we had stood against him and prevailed. He knew Isildur's heir existed, and was strong enough to drive his forces back. I wondered if Frodo had even made it to Mordor, and if he was anywhere close to Mount Doom if he had. Suddenly, faced with such destruction, I wondered how much it had cost us to let the two Hobbits go off on their own. Had we unwittingly let them wander into their doom? Steeling myself of such thoughts, I joined my friends in walking back to fortress of Gondor.

Ever will the White City hold a place in my heart. The silent, taciturn grace of my Legacy spilt forth from the mountains in tiers of glistening white. Darkened and shattered with the spoils of battle, I still thought it magnificent in an unearthly way. Stopping in front of the gate, I gazed at the banners flapping in the breeze. From where I had placed myself, I could see the White Tree, ghastly in its fading glory atop the Tower. A bell tolled somewhere, crying out for the deaths that had occurred. No one knew that their future King approached, and I would have had it no other way. I felt dwarfed by the enormous city, suffocated by the responsibility that resided within. A hand on my arm gave me pause, and I looked questioningly at Legolas as he drew his fingers away.

"Someday, you will be King here" he said softly. I swallowed.

"Never have I wanted anything less" I replied hoarsely. I cast my gaze about us. "Look at what has been done here-what must be done in order to have this city rebuilt-and I'm just supposed to waltz in and declare myself Lord?" I laughed bitterly. "I'm a Ranger, raised by elves and borne from the Wild."

"You are a child of Kings" Legolas chided gently. "When the time comes, you will know what to do."

"I hope you're right" I muttered, striding forward once more. "As far as I'm concerned, right now I'm little more than a peasant."

Gandalf greeted us warmly at the Citadel, looking weary but resignedly triumphant. Pippin had gone off to look for Merry in the healing houses, having heard of his encounter with the Nazgul and its rider. We heard of Denethor's fall, and I was grieved by it. To be driven to madness is a terrible thing, and the Steward of Gondor had certainly seen enough sadness to lose hope in all that was lucid and understandable. He thought both his sons dead and his city about to be reduced to rubble. I wondered if, having put all my life's work into Gondor's longevity, I would be able to watch it fall with my sanity still intact. I could not countenance his burning of his still-alive son, but I could understand his madness. Lesser things have driven such men to their ruin. I could only hope I could honor his memory by bringing his city back to its former glory.

I was needed at that time to tend to Faramir, who was in a terrible state. For once, I was grateful for my guise as a ranger, which Gandalf had bid me take. It gave me time to gather my bearings within the city, and to understand the workings of the citadel in greater detail. However, my presence did not go unnoticed. I was versed in healing, and therefore needed in many places at once. Word spread that a great healer had arrived, possibly the King of Gondor, and I felt despair as I realized my identity could not be hidden for long. Legolas made himself scarce during this time. When I asked Gimli, the dwarf told me that he'd been acquainting himself with the city.

"As your future consort, he has to get a lay of the land" my short-statured friend growled, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

The thought made me warm inside, though I didn't mention it to Gimli, I thought he had enough to go on already. Busy as I was in the healing houses, I was glad to have someone paying attention to the goings on outside of the sixth tier of the city. I wondered if I would be permitted the same luxuries in Mirkwood, but the thought was quickly quashed by the fact that Thranduil would likely murder me if he ever found out about my intentions toward his son. I'd gathered enough information from my time in the Greenwood to understand the workings of their politics and the way the elven people were managed in any case. Elves were less concentrated on rules and dogma in any case. Thranduil was King, but he did not Lord over his lands, as I would have to.

After some time, Gandalf called a council with some of the Lords of the city, and asked that we attend. From my understanding, it was he who had lead the majority of Minas Tirith's defense, and I was grateful to him for taking the reigns where I could not. The old wizard expressed his concern that Sauron would strike again, and in greater force. With our numbers so small, we would not withstand another direct attack on the city. Our only hope was to lure the forces of Sauron away from Mount Doom, so that Frodo and Sam would have a chance to destroy the Ring before it was too late. We would ride out to the Black Gates, and engage Sauron's legions in battle. If we could withhold for long enough, it might give our friends a fighting chance. As we gazed at each other; wizard, dwarf, ranger, lords and knights, we acknowledged the fact that there was a great chance we would not survive. This was a battle whose intentions were aimed for the greater good, not our own longevity. Middle Earth had to be freed of the pestilence that was Sauron once and for all. Darkness would reign again, but we could subdue it for now. As the council adjourned, Legolas caught my arm and dragged me off to the the third tier of the city.

Here, the hustle and bustle of pedestrian noise was nothing but that of the inhabitants. Few people resided in Gondor but the wives and children of soldiers and the families of lords and ladies. The farmers and workers lived outside of the Rammas Echor; their houses and fields dotting the countryside with friendly but vulnerable patches of life. Many of them had evacuated their homes during the approach of the Black Army. Having fled to the White City, they filed back out to their homes in a long and straggling line to see what was left of their legacies.

"This is Lord Dirhael's house" Legolas said softly, gesturing to a stone dwelling to the right of us. It was cut into the rock face with a curvature; great double stone doors were hung with blue and green tapestries, and a torch crackled in the entryway welcoming visitors. "He lives here with his wife Lady Ivorwen, and their sons Duilin and Ohtar." He drew me away and pointed to another house. "Lord Golasgil lives alone and has never married, having devoted much of his time to the Realm. He was one of Denethor's chief advisors and regards Minas Tirith's legacy of the utmost importance."

"My, my you have done your research" I murmured, looping my arm through his. The blonde-haired elf stopped and looked gravely at me.

"You will have to as well" he said softly. "If we are serious about this."

"Of course I am" I replied firmly. We drew apart as a group of guards walked by us, then took a turn into a less guarded alleyway. "I haven't had the time, you know that."

Legolas sighed.

"You know enough of our ways to ignore learning our etiquette, but you still face the challenge of being my consort and adviser, and I yours." He smiled wryly. "I wonder how we shall divide our time?"

"You act as if our two realms will suddenly agree to being made one under the rule of two very male rulers" I reminded him gently. "I can see the Greenwood accepting it eventually, but not Gondor." I grimaced. "And not your father."

"Let me deal with my Adar" Legolas replied, leaning idly against the alley wall. "You worry about your realm, and I will worry about mine."

"We are to worry about each other's if we are to rule in some sort of unity" I murmured, casting a surreptitious glance back the way we had come.

"Of course" he agreed, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. "But we must have some semblance of separation, when the time comes. No one expects either of us to be rulers of two realms at once."

"No one will expect any of this at all" I sighed, touching his cheek briefly. "Come, let's walk again, tell me more of what you have learned."

No one disturbed us for the rest of the afternoon. I don't know if it was on Gandalf's orders or pure luck that nobody came to call for me in the Houses of Healing. Maybe the old wizard hoped that some dissension would come between us in our time alone, as we realized the enormity of what was before us. In truth, I was touched by Legolas scrutiny of the niceties of the city which I was to rule. He was quick to learn with a fiercely bright mind, and I could not help but think that with him by my side, we would be nearly unstoppable. I'd always considered Arwen an advisor, but never had I thought she would readily take charge of the realm. Legolas had the capability to advise and act upon his ideas, and that was what I wanted and more. If we were to survive the battle to come, I would gladly rule with him as my equal. The term consort was almost an insult compared to what he would be to me. I'd never thought that I'd be able to rule Gondor with a willing spirit and determined heart; but with Legolas at my side, I wanted to give my people everything we had to offer and more.


	25. The Fall of Sauron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The armies of Gondor take their battle to the Black Gate_

"Aragorn, behind you!"

I whirled, throwing up my sword, a gasp escaping my lips as my arm absorbed the brutal impact of the blow from an enormous troll. The strike reverberated down into my chest; setting my hand afire as I very nearly dropped Anduril. At the same time, I shoved my shield above me and took another crushing hit, almost driven to my knees. The battle was raging around me, the cries of man and orc echoing up into a sky blackened by the fires of Mordor. Left and right, man fought orc, goblin, and all manner of foul creature. The Eye was turned directly upon us and I felt its pestilent gaze piercing me to the very core. Sauron watched the battle at a distance; locked up in his dark tower encased in shadow. The Black Gates were opened wide like some terrible, gaping maw; Sauron's forces spilling forth like a black wave of unrestrained vomit.

We were overcome.

Surrounded and pressed in upon, we fought with the desperate drive of those having marched to their doom. It seemed a terrible dream, as I watched men fall before me. Stabbed, gutted, crushed, and beaten; I saw the light fade from their eyes as their spirits disappeared into the dank and dismal air around us. Injured men cried for their mothers as their comrades slit their throats in what they saw as a gesture of mercy. They knew too well what orcs did with the 'spoils' of battle. The grit and grime of blood seemed a second skin, clinging to my armor like a heavy coating of mud. My cape was reduced to unrecognizable tatters, an orc had tried to strangle me with it and I'd tore it to shreds rather than risk it again.

At some point, the eagles came to aid us, but they were still vulnerable to arrows and the Nazgul soon engaged them in fierce combat. Their combined screams echoed above us and the field was dotted with the black blood of the monstrous winged beasts whilst feathers floated through the air. It was an ethereal, heart-stopping experience. I had lost sight of the other members of the Fellowship long ago. I didn't know if I fought aside friend or foe, only that I was still upright and that my blade was still swinging. It became exhaustive, grim work, with no possible end but to eventually fall; overcome by the endless hoard.

The third blow from the troll fell between my sword and my shield, striking me square in the chest. All the breath in my body was expelled and a burst of blood blossomed over my lip. My vision tunneled as I landed on my back in a heap. I was temporarily numb, watching as my fingers curled in unresponsive shock. Struggling to regain air, I convulsed and met Legolas' gaze among the writhing throng, his blue eyes widened in despair and terror. His mouth formed the syllables of my name even though I could not hear it. Wrenching him from my focus, I threw up both arms as the troll loomed over me, a wicked and vicious look in its eyes as I lay sprawled and defenseless. I realized that I would never get to say goodbye to anyone. This was the moment Illuvatar had chosen for me, and I felt a grudging but unavoidable sense of acceptance. Even as my foe raised its monstrous club, I felt no fear, only sadness at the fact that I wouldn't get to say goodbye. Breath flooded my body but it was too late, I was an immobile target.

And then Mount Doom exploded.

We watched as the great behemoth of a Mountain spewed forth rivers of gushing lava; darkening the already smoggy sky with ash. The Nazgul gave a terrible shriek and wheeled away towards the eruption, as if some semblance of hope lay within its bubbling destruction. An anguished scream filled the air and the Eye seemed to bulge to a grotesque size. Sauron's rage and fear were felt by all of his servants. They froze in their tracks, eyes turning in horror as the dark tower of their King crumbled down into dust. Great fissures opened in the wide expanse of space where our enemies stood, and they gave a great unanimous cry of terror only to be swallowed up as they raced back towards the Black Gate. The troll above me gave a howl of panic and sprinted away only to be felled by a devastatingly accurate arrow. A tentative cry of victory rose from my surviving comrades as our enemies scattered. Regaining most of my breath, I found my feet once more, watching as Mount Doom spewed forth another wave of lava; this time completely engulfing the mountain.

My heart seemed to slow to a stop as I slowly realized the implications of the explosion. Frodo and Sam were either already dead or close to it. Mordor was falling into itself; crumbling into rubble, dust, and fire. Despair crawled into the back of my throat, crushing my sense of victory with a wave of grief and disbelief. I'm not exactly sure what we'd expected to happen when the Ring was destroyed. A part of me whispered that I should have forseen it, Sauron wasn't going to fall without taking his Kingdom with him. Frodo and Sam had sacrificed their lives to save ours, and I felt it was terribly unfair.

"I've sent the Eagles."

I turned slowly, as if in a dream, to face Gandalf. The old wizard's expression was a terrible mask of fear and sadness, but there was also a glimmer of hope and I clung to it like a moth to flame.

"Do you think they will find them?"

"I don't know" the Maiar replied gruffly. "There is always hope, but right now there is very little."

"Gandalf" I said desperately. "I would never have let them go on their own if I had known."

Kind eyes meant mine.

"Aragorn, no matter what happens, this is not your fault. You did what was best for the quest, and they have succeeded, whatever the price."

He swept away, in the direction of a floundering orc. I watched numbly as he ended its 'suffering' with a quick sword stroke. Around me, the soldiers were celebrating, unaware of the monstrous cost of our victory. My eyes fell once more to the smoldering pillar of Mount Doom, and my hands trembled with consternation and grief. All my life, I'd been a friend of Hobbits and the little things of the Earth. As a Ranger, it was my responsibility to put nature and history to the forefront of my values. I felt I had failed in some terrible, personal, and unforgiveable way.

" _Meleth-nin._ " The voice beside me was barely above a whisper. I turned to look at Legolas, who stared back with eyes full of sadness and sympathy. "'Tis not your fault" he murmured.

"Isn't it?" I whispered.

"Destroying the One Ring was always going to come at a cost" the elf replied, casting a meaningful gaze to the battlefield around us. "The cost of destroying a great Evil is always high, and it is never what we want."

It was as we stood there, gazing at the destruction of Mordor, that the Eagles came flying back. Their conversational cries rent the air asunder and for a moment the soldiers quailed in their presence. In the talons of two were twin figures, both hanging listlessly from sharp yellow claws. After hovering for a minute they winged their way towards Minas Tirith at great haste.

"A good sign" Legolas commented. "They return to the city with the Ringbearer, perhaps they still live."

We did not return to the city immediately. With Sauron's demise, we had time to hunt down the orcs still hiding in various outposts ringing the ruins of Mordor. It was dull, mind-numbing work. Some of the orcs obviously wanted mercy, but their superiors wouldn't hear of it; resulting in mass slaughter. The subordinates were weeded out and dispatched by their Commanders and the Commanders in turn were killed by us since they were unwilling to throw down their weapons. Gandalf stayed behind at the Black Gate to tend to the wounded. The dead were gathered as well as possible, but a second procession would bring the majority back in the days to come. After patrolling Ered Lithui and Ephel Duath, we made our way back to the Towers of the Teeth and out onto the Dagorlad. All of us were weary beyond belief, and I was almost looking forward to our return to Minas Tirith.

We set out in a varying procession, pressing forward only when we had to and taking a great many rests in-between. I tended to the wounded soldiers that were able to make the first journey back, distributing my skills among those of the other healers. People had begun to recognize who I was, and it both gratified and terrified me. Some of the soldiers had begun to address me as 'sire' and I deeply disapproved of it. It made me feel separated from the men who had given their lives just as readily as I had given mine.

"I've been called 'sire' since I was three" Legolas said idly, watching me bandage a banner man. "If that bothers you, wait until they start bowing and standing every time you enter a room."

"If that's the way Kings are treated I'm going to have to rewrite the book on etiquette" I grumbled, fumbling for herbs in my satchel.

"Sire, the Wizard Gandalf asked to see you."

I glared pointedly at the soldier who had addressed me. We were somewhere near the back of the procession; squarely in the middle of a slow-moving healing column. The injured required a gentler pace than the rest of those who accompanied us, and I was more than happy to spend my time there. Sensing he had done something wrong, the infantryman bowed low as if to apologize. Legolas let out something that sounded suspiciously like a derisive giggle and I turned my accusing gaze on him. Smirking, he dipped his head.

"You'd better go and see what he wants" he commented saucily. " _Sire._ "

Throwing up my hands in defeat, I left the elf to his mischief and mounted Roheryn. Turning swiftly, I made my way to the head of the procession and soon located Gandalf atop Shadowfax, riding next to Merry. The Hobbit gave me a cheery wave and I returned the gesture, relieved that at least one person wasn't treating me like a God. Gandalf raised a hairy eyebrow but otherwise gave no comment to my presence until we were riding side-by-side.

"You will be expected to allow the city to recover before your Coronation" he said after we had ridden in silence for a while.

"They can have as much time as they want and then some" I replied stiffly. "I'm in no hurry to claim the throne."

"Just because you don't wear a crown doesn't mean you don't have any responsibility" Gandalf chided gently. "People will expect you to oversee the reconstruction of Gondor, whether you've been instated on the throne or not."

"I'm not taking the throne until I know that Legolas can take it with me" I replied calmly. Gandalf opened his mouth to speak but I held up my hand to stop him. "Hear me out. As much as I want to help Gondor, I want to share my rule with the one I love. I will not take the crown unless I'm to marry Legolas the same day."

"You seem to have faith that Gondor will accept it" the old wizard growled. "I thought you meant to be sensible about this."

"I _am_ being sensible" I replied calmly. "If I don't make my position clear early on, no one will respect me if I spring it on them later down the line. Legolas and I will rule together or I will not rule at all."

Gandalf made a noise that was half disgust and half resignation. Merry appeared to have missed our entire conversation, preferring to chatter happily with Gimli who rode with a soldier to his left. The clatter of hooves announced Arod's approach and I gave Legolas a small smile of greeting before turning to the Captain of the Guard to discuss their plans for Minas Tirith once they'd returned. In times of peace, solidiers were expected to lay down their weapons and give aid to those focused on rebuilding the city. Plans had been laid too send out small scouting parties to flush elusive pockets of orcs from the area; but the rest of the Guard would be expected to help with Minas Tirith's refurbishment. The city needed to heal, and some compensation would be had for those who had lost family members to the war. Children without parents needed housing and the injured would have there recompense.

"You'll have to decide on a set grievance sum" the Captain told me. "Gondor has a treasury but we can't spend it all on the bereaved, some of it has to go to supplies and food."

"I can do that" Legolas cut in. "I'm used to figuring funds. Adar used to make me go over the supply charts in the larders four times a day, especially when I was recalcitrant."

"M'lord" the Captain began dubiously. "It's the King's responsibility-"

"-To boss everyone around, I know" the golden-haired elf replied cheerfully. "Look at it this way, you don't have to tell me to do anything. I'm volunteering for the job, and I'm qualified to do it. You don't have any problem with it, do you?" he looked imploringly at me and I sighed in disgust.

"Legolas, if you're wanting to jump in head first before we've even thought about funeral arrangements, please reconsider. I know you want to do your part but surely you're going to busy."

"Oh you're not going to be free of anything at all, don't think I meant that!" Legolas exclaimed. "My Adar's coming up for the funerals and staying 'till your coronation and I imagine you'll want to have things prepared for him and the rest of the elven delegation. Gimli's relatives are bound to show up, along with a whole slew of nobles from Rohan and Gondor." He smiled, which did nothing to assuage my sudden onslaught of panic. "Oh, and don't forget the rest of Middle Earth, they'll want to meet you too."

"That's it!" I cried, startling Roheryn. "I don't want to be King!"

"I'm afraid you've invested far too much of yourself to bow out now" Gandalf said mildly, casting an amused glance at Legolas.

"Look, there's Osgiliath!" my elven rider cried, spurring his horse forward.

I watched him go with a mild feeling of disbelief.

"How does he just... _accept_ everything?" I muttered.

"I imagine because he's a prince, sire" the Captain said slowly. "Have you given any thought to your chamber colors?"

And so it was that I found myself shouting at the Captain of the Guard, with Gandalf and Merry laughing uproariously. Never mind the fact that I was going to ask Thranduil for his son's hand in a few weeks time; his son seemed rather invested in running the Kingdoms singlehandedly. I rather felt the whole situation was completely doomed, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.  
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Aragorn, you can't just tell a dwarven delegation you don't have time to meet them and leave them standing around the first tier for the entire morning!"

Gritting my teeth, I gave the granite piece I was shoving into the wall a final heave. As it fell into place, the five other men I was working with groaned in relief and took a brief break to hunt for something to eat. Folding my arms, I glared at the slender elven figure before me. Legolas scowled endearingly and scuffed his feet on the flagstones. We were standing in the center of the third tier, where most of the catapult damage had been done. I'd spent most of the morning helping the men refurbish the wall, under the blazing heat of the mountain sun. The reconstruction process was going as well as we could hope at three days in. Most of the second and third levels were complete along with the White Tower. Legolas insisted that the Citadel be completed first, as a symbol of the steadfast perseverance of the rulers of Gondor. Under his watchful eye, we'd managed to kick off the majority of the construction work and then some. I realized, with a jolt of dread, that I'd have no reason to postpone the coronation and subsequent marriage ceremony if we continued at such a successful pace.

Frodo and Sam were recovering magnificently. The dark-haired Hobbit seemed melancholy, now that his quest was over. But I guessed it was the sense of purpose that had left him as much as the fact that he had faced so much in order to accomplish what had to be done. I had visited them many times in the Healing Houses, and it warmed my soul to see them doing so well. Sam just seemed grateful to be alive. He attributed their whole success to 'Mr. Frodo' and wouldn't hear anything of taking the slightest bit of credit for himself. It is very hard not to admire creatures of such steadfast loyalty and love. I was more than glad to have them there, especially since times had been so dark. Merry and Pippin were an ever-present sunny accompaniment, and it seemed that all was becoming well with the world once more.

"Gimli wasn't there to greet them" I grumbled, wiping my brow with the cloth my lover passed to me. "I didn't know what to do with them."

"You were supposed to send word to Faramir, so he could show them their lodgings and set them up with something to eat" Legolas replied. "They're very grumpy you know." He sighed and perched on a piece of granite we had yet to inlay. "Gimli's upset with Gloin over something" he continued, pulling a slip of paper from his robe and handing it to me. "To greet them would be some sort of prideful breech that I can't wrap my head around no matter how many times I go over it."

"Illuvatar forbid that a dwarf will get along with a dwarf" I mumbled, unfolding the note and scanning it. "This says your father will be here in three weeks!" I gasped.

"Yes" Legolas beamed. "I'm so excited to see him, aren't you?"

I floundered for a moment, at a loss for words.

"What are we going to tell him?"

"The truth" Legolas hummed, tilting his head and inspecting a spot on his robe. He hesitated. "Is that such a bad thing?"

"It is if he decides to hang me from the Seventh Gate" I replied, leaning on the partially-finished wall.

"He won't" my love said soothingly. "Though he may throw a tantrum for a few days." He hesitated and appeared to consider his words. "He might leave" he added, as an afterthought.

"That makes me feel much better" I said sarcastically.

Legolas chuckled and hopped off his perch, coming to stand in front of me. He hesitated for a moment, before moving forward to take my hands.

"There's something I need to tell you" he said softly.

I smiled and tucked an errant golden lock behind an elegantly pointed ear.

"Hmmm, does it have anything to do with the elven peppermints I found stashed away in my bedside table?"

He flushed red.

"Those are for later. I'm being serious."

"I'm listening" I said gently.

He appeared to hesitate again.

"A long time ago, elven births were greatly reduced due to Melkor's influence on the Light given to Middle Earth" he began slowly. "During that time, Illuvatar gave some male elves the ability to carry children, in order to further his descendants and ensure them a proper future." He took a deep steadying breath. "The gift has been greatly lessened, especially under the power of Sauron's darkness, but it still remained in some."

"What are you saying?" I whispered.

He smiled, a little shakily.

"If-when the time comes-if we should decide that we would want children of our own; I have the ability to give them to you." He swallowed nervously. "If...if you still want me, after hearing this, of course."

I was stunned. I had intended to marry Legolas with the purpose of ruling Gondor with no possibility of any heir. I'd intended to pass my rule to someone who I thought worthy of taking over in my stead, perhaps one of Faramir's sons or Faramir himself. I'd never thought that children were possible in my future.

"Legolas" I began slowly, and he winced. "Legolas, you do me a great honor by proffering this part of yourself" I said softly, releasing his hands and cradling his face. A smile brighter than the sun itself suffused his face, along with the faint glimmer of tears. "I would gladly raise our children with you, it would be my greatest joy."

" _Ai,_ Aragorn" he breathed, bowing his head. "I was hoping you would say that." We stood there for a while, in the brief moment of solitude our busy schedules allowed us. Legolas seemed nearly tearful in his relief, and I was loathe to leave him in such a fragile state, but time and duty dictated that we could not remain their long. After a time, he drew away and straightened his robe, clearing his throat. "Now" he said breezily. "Will you please go and find Gimli, and then the two of you can go and greet the delegation with the muster of two great heroes of Gondor." He smiled wryly. "I can't always hold all the glory you know."

"And you shouldn't" I teased. "It might all go to your head."

"It might" he said lightly, taking my arm and dragging me away from the construction site. "I might decide to become a great Lord and rule over two Kingdom's with you as my helpless consort."

With our laughter ringing in the air, we went to greet the dwarven dignitaries with lighter hearts; and I looked on to the coming of Thranduil with only the slightest feelings of apprehension.

If only I had been better prepared.


	26. Adar a Ion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Thranduil learns of Aragorn and Legolas' relationship._

I enjoyed spending my time in the sixth tier, near the Healing Houses. There were a great abundance of gardens, and the air was always light and clear. When I wasn't busy looking over papers concerning Gondor's funds; I spent my hours there, tending to the trees, flowers, and plants. Anarion, the Chief Gardener was apprehensive of giving over the care of his precious gardens to an elf, but I was swift to prove my worth after saving an ailing rose bush of which he was particularly fond. He put me in charge of the lemonthrush trees, a large herb garden, and several patches of blushlilys. It was hard but gratifying work, and I loved to do it in my spare time. Aragorn thought it beneath me, but I didn't mind. I was used to caring for things that grow, especially during my time as a child in Amon Lanc.

I was was fussing over the irrigation in a tomato patch I had taken a particular liking to when news came of my father's arrival. It was late afternoon, and I'd shed my robes for a pair of brown breeches and a soft white tunic. I was rather the same color all around, as I was up to my ears in mulch. I bit my lip as I worried a stubborn ragweed from the ground and groped for the trowel behind me, digging a trench where the offending plant had once been. The sun was making a slow but steady path behind the White Mountains, and the soft chirrup of crickets was slowly beginning to fill the air. A chuckle behind me gave me pause, and I righted myself to smile at Aragorn, who had quietly snuck up behind me while I worked.

"Finished settling the Lady Brerwyn?" I queried, brushing a hand over my brow.

"Mm" he replied, coming to kneel beside me and inspect my handiwork. "She's rather enchanted by her rooms."

"I suppose the Woodspeople of Mirkwood rarely see such finery" I mused, tucking back into my pile of mulch with a fervor. "Did you look over my report on the shipments that came in today?"

"I did" he said idly, tracing the curve of a tomato vine. "I never knew a city could eat so many onions."

"Yes, well, try telling the Head Chef he'll have to make due with a third of the usual supply" I snorted. "You'd think there weren't enough onions in the entire world."

Aragorn chuckled, and sat back, observing the garden. We were in a small outer tier, overlooking the edge of the wall. An abundance of honeysuckle blossoms crawled over the turrets to spill onto the white marble of the fortress exterior, throwing up a sweet but not overpowering fragrance. Around us were patches of vegetables, each flourishing in their own way in accordance with the season. Behind us was the recovery portion of the healing houses; stained glass hid the tenants inside, throwing little rainbows of color out onto the flagstone before us.

"You've got some dirt" Aragorn said idly, reaching over to rub my nose. "Just here."

"I've got dirt everywhere" I replied, swatting his hand away. "I'll wash it off soon, I'm about done."

"Your father arrived" he added, as if in afterthought.

I yelped and dropped my trowel.

"Why didn't you say so?" I gasped, looking at him in horror.

"Oh, I don't know" he said airily. "I rather fancied the thought of him catching you here, covered in mud."

"You're a monster!" I shrieked, jumping to my feet. "Where is he? I've got to get changed!"

"Calm yourself" he chuckled, rising and drawing me to him. "The last I saw him, he was on his way to speak to Gandalf, in the first tier." He pressed a gentle kiss to my lips and I relented a little. "I'll go tell the staff you're wanting a bath, shall I?"

"He'll wonder why I wasn't there to greet him" I muttered, fretfully brushing the dirt from my hands. Another kiss, and I huffed. "Oh, you win. I can't stay angry at you, go away. I'll be on in a minute."

He left, chortling quietly to himself and I rolled my eyes. Swiftly gathering up my tools, I made my way out of the vegetable garden and dropped them off at the maintenance shed at the West of the wall. Leaving Anarion a missive stating I'd finish my work tomorrow, I hurried up to the seventh tier to change. Other than Gandalf, I was the only other member of the Fellowship provided rooms within the Citadel. Aragorn too resided there, though his chambers were on the Western side of the Tower of Ecthelion, and mine on the East. Passing under the great spire, I took a red-carpeted staircase to my rooms, where I was glad to see a bath had been drawn. Throwing my soiled garments to the floor, I sank into the water, taking only a few moments to revel in the glorious warmth before beginning to scrub myself clean. My rooms were split into three parts; a study, a washroom, and a bedchamber. All were completely circular and richly adorned in the colors of Gondor with sturdy mahogany furnishings. There were no doors separating the spaces, only thick velvet curtains that could be parted or pulled together with a thick golden tassel. Casting my gaze to the darkened bedroom, I saw that a sky blue robe with white ribbing had been laid out on the mattress, along with a set of shoes. I was grateful, for once, that someone had taken the time to choose my clothes, as I didn't think I'd have been able to decide. Once I had determined I was thoroughly clean, I dried and dressed myself, stopping only to run a flat-toothed comb through my hair. A loud knock on the door gave me pause, and I hurried to answer it, slipping on my shoes as I went.

Gimli stood outside, looking not a little bit grumpy. He made his way inside without an invitation and threw himself onto the first chair he came in contact with.

"Something the matter?" I queried, sweeping into the study to tidy a stack of papers I'd left scattered on the desk.

"The palace is awash with elves" he growled, pouring himself a glass of wine from my decanter. "They're all floating about and putting on airs."

"So you've come have company with the only elf you can tolerate?" I asked lightly, tucking a missive into my pocket. "I've got to go soon, you know."

"Ah yes, going to meet that antlered elf that kept my father prisoner" the dwarf grumbled. "Let me know how that goes."

"Going to meet my father" I corrected gently, leaning against the wall.

"You're going to tell him about-" he gestured wildly, nearly knocking over his glass in the process.

"Well, we certainly can't avoid it" I replied, placing a steadying hand on the goblet. "Though there's no telling how he'll take it."

"I could tell you that" Gimli harrumphed. "Badly, that's how." He thumped the butt of his axe on the floor. "I still don't know why you can't just elope quietly and bring it to light later."

"Kings and princes don't elope" I replied sternly.

"They don't marry each other either" my friend pointed out.

"Sometimes I wonder if you're with us, or against us" I snapped, striding towards the door.

"Aye, don't be like that lad" the dwarf sighed. "You know I support you, I just would hate to see either of you hurt for all this, and I'm afraid that's the only way I see it going."

We stood in silence for a while, and I found the more I stalled the less willing I was to go.

"I've got to go see him, in any case" I said calmly, opening the door. I cast a glance back at Gimli. "You can stay here if you like, if it's more to your taste."

"I plan to" my friend barked. He reached for his pipe and I grimaced. "Let me know how it goes."

"Of course" I muttered, closing the door behind me.

Standing out in the hall, I deliberated on where to go. I wasn't sure if Gandalf had kept Thranduil long, but I didn't want to go searching for him in the first tier only to find he wasn't there. I took a deep settling breath and let my feet lead me down the stairs and out onto the courtyard, where I gazed at the white tree for a long while. I hadn't talked to my father since I'd sent him the letter in Rivendell, informing him of my decision to join the Fellowship. Mirkwood had beat off a good amount of orc attacks in my absence, so said many. My father had been as much involved in the War as I had, but I'd not heard a word from him. The missive informing me of his estimated arrival had been written by an emissary and contained no personal message for me. I didn't know if Thranduil resented me for leaving him, or knew it was necessary for the Greenwood to aid the Fellowship. A hand on the small of my back gave me pause, and I looked up to meet Aragorn's stormy grey gaze.

"You look wonderful" he said softly. I smiled, a little nervously. "Faramir is getting Thranduil settled in his rooms, I've had a fire built in the Adviser's Hall in the antechamber. Shall we await him there?"

I nodded in assent and we made our way down to the fifth tier. The Governed Circuit amassed most of the business-oriented matters of Minas Tirith. As King, Aragorn would hold his Council Meetings there, and any and all trade deals, treaties, official laws, and financial decisions were signed there. The Advisers Hall was a large, ovular building with a hundred or so offices along with the Council Chamber and its antechambers, and the Wartime Hall. The front entrance was ovular in shape and opened in on a large, rectangular chamber with a long low-hewn rectangular stone table with a throne at the far end. Hanging braziers flickered on the walls along with banners of the White Tree. Exiting to the right, we entered a smaller, spherical chamber with a great fire. Cushioned chairs were scattered throughout the space but I moved to the mantel, too discomfited to sit anywhere for very long. A servant floated in to set a table with drinks and I snatched one up for myself, nursing it as I kept my gaze latched on the door. After some time, I tired of worrying myself sick and took a seat next to Aragorn near the fire. We conversed lightly of the affairs of Gondor while we waited, occasionally sharing a smile or a meaningful glance. A soft knock on the door announced my father's arrival, and we rose in unison to greet him.

I had forgotten the grandness of my Adar. As Thranduil of the Woodland Realm swept into the room, all breath left my lungs and I found myself unable to speak. The light from the fire illuminated his proud, marble features as he surveyed us both calculatingly, his dark brows hovering over sapphire-blue eyes as wise as the hills. He wore his crown, as was appropriate when representing his people in a foreign realm, and his silver and green robe whispered on the flagstones. The liquid-gold torrent of his golden hair fell in a stormy river across his back, and it rippled when he walked. His gaze fell upon me and I bowed my head ever-so-slightly. I felt a fresh rush of fear as I realized the enormity of what I must tell him, and considered the possible consequences that might follow.

_"Leglas"_ he said softly, and his voice was like velvet. Unbidden, memories of how he had addressed me as a child rose within my mind. _"Ionneg."_

"Adar" I replied, stepping foward. His stern gaze lifted and was replaced by a momentary tenderness. He lifted his hands and drew me forward to kiss my cheeks. _"El sila erin lu e-govaned vin."_

We stood there a moment, his cheek lingering against mine, and I felt some of the anxiety I had felt leak out of me. He was not so angry as to not greet me affectionately. Perhaps there was hope after all.

"It is good to see you well" he said softly, drawing back. "I have worried for you."

"I knew you would" I replied, smiling softy. "For what it's worth, I am sorry."

My father's gaze fell upon Aragorn, who remained standing next to the fire.

"We will speak of such things later. For now, it is enough that I have seen you are alive and well." He moved to greet Aragorn, and my love bowed deeply. "Estel, it is good to see you again."

_"Le nathlam hi"_ he replied, straightening. "Won't you sit down? You must be tired from your journey."

We talked for a long while, exchanging news and trading stories. I distributed the wine when needed, and was content to listen to the two Kings share their news. It made me happy to see them get along. Aragorn had ever been good with the ways of elves. He was polite, tactful, and sensitive. My father valued his opinion and thought him a good man among many who were not so good. Though often suspicious, Thranduil was gracious of those who were respectful to him. Looking between them, I wondered how well their relationship would hold up once we revealed our intentions.

"Legolas has been managing Minas Tirith's finances" Aragorn was saying, leaning back in his chair. "I confess that I've found myself with very little to do with him about, you've taught him well."

"Indeed" Thranduil said slowly, raising an elegant brow at me. "Legolas rather loves his numbers, 'twas geometry he was rather fiercely opposed to."

"I'm not overfond of shapes" I muttered.

"And you've been working in the gardens?" my father pressed. "You seem to have made yourself quite at home."

"I like to be useful" I replied uncomfortably. "You know I don't like an idle mind, Adar."

The conversation wore on until a servant came to inform us that dinner was ready. Aragorn had arranged for Thranduil and his party to dine with us, and left to make sure that everything was in order. This left my father and I alone, where he gazed at me with a sudden intensity that made me uncomfortable.

"You left me" he said idly, after a time. I startled at the sound of his voice in the silence but said nothing. His demeanor had changed subtly, as it was wont to when he was stormy. "You left me, and ran off on a possibly hopeless quest with nothing but a pathetically short missive as a goodbye."

"Adar" I said quietly. "Adar, I did what I thought was right."

"What if you had died?" he replied, his voice deadly soft. "How do you think I'd have survived it?"

"I was needed elsewhere" I said softly. "I can't always be under your wing."

"And yet you can be under a King of Man's!" he thundered, standing. I winced as the goblet he was holding shattered to the floor. "Don't think I'm a fool, Greenleaf. Here you are, sitting in a King's antechamber, wearing his house colors" I paled. "You tend his garden, eat at his table, and figure his finances and you think I am a _fool"_ he spat the last word, his eyes flashing.

"The Fellowship was as detrimental to the quest as Frodo and Sam!" I protested, standing as well. "You played your part too, just because I played it elsewhere does not mean I am of lesser value." I took a deep breath. "As for how I serve Gondor, I serve it as any person would aid the Kingdom he fought under in the time of War."

"You aid it because you bed its King" he snarled. "I see how he looks at you, and I see how you look at him."

"I love him" I said lowly, finally caving to his suspicions. "Is that so wrong? Adar, I could have picked someone far more terrible to love!" I folded my arms across my chest. "And I do not bed him, I wait to wed him."

At my admission, he looked at me as if he had never seen me before. His lips thinned and he drew himself up to full height.

"If this is some foolish political scheme you know I won't have any of it" he snapped. "Gondor and the Realm of the Elves have always gotten along under specific terms but we cannot be a united Kingdom."

"Do you think me so boorish that I'd wed myself off in order to solidify some sort of treaty?" I scoffed. "No, I want him because I love him." I swallowed. "Didn't you love Nana? You know we don't love thoughtlessly, I've given my heart to him, and I don't intend to turn away from it just because you don't approve."

"Don't speak to me of your mother" Thranduil snapped. "You never knew her."

"No, I didn't" I agreed. "But I know there was a time when you loved her, and you didn't let anything stand in your way." I folded my arms. "And now, I'm not letting anything stand in the way of me."

A great silence fell between us as he gazed at me. I regretted being so shallow as to bring my departed mother into it, but there was a time for everything. I couldn't allow myself to be weak in the face of my father's rage. Strigent in his beliefs he was, but unfair he was not. The prejudices of man did not extend to the elven world, and I hadn't accepted the advances of any courtiers. Unlike Aragorn, I had no nuptial obligations, and my father was fully aware of that. After a time, Thranduil appeared to deflate. Sitting back down in his chair, he gazed gravely at me.

"How do you propose to divide your time between Mirkwood and Gondor?" he asked roughly.

"I actually wanted to talk to you about that" I said lightly, moving to stand near the fire. "Are you planning to sail?"

He turned his head and gazed into the fire.

"I miss your mother" he said quietly. "Her spirit was the brightest light in a world full of darkness. I raised you hoping that I could leave you a legacy you could rely upon in hard times." He ran slender fingers over his lips. "The time of the Elves is ending. The last ships are bound to sail soon, and Man must have his Reign on Middle Earth." He looked gravely at me. "If you are to be part of that reign, perhaps I can rest a little easier." He looked suddenly weary. "I've considered sailing many times, but with so many elders of our kin leaving Middle Earth, I am loathe to leave it bereft." He cast me a considering glance. "Though I do not take your age into consideration lightly, I have seen far many more years than you, and perhaps I may still be of service."

"So you do not plan to sail?" I asked, astonished. He smiled gently.

"Think you that I've forgotten the gifts bestowed upon you, my son? I'd like to be here to watch the upbringing of my grandchildren."

I flushed, at once delighted and embarrassed.

"Adar...I don't know what to say."

"I'm not saying the road you have chosen will be an easy one" he said wryly. "Marriage is never simple, you must learn to temper each other through the years. But I won't be yet another spoke in the wheel of conflict that you are going to face. I've seen far too much unhappiness in the world to deny you what will bring you joy." Thranduil frowned. "Has Aragorn announced any of it to Gondor? I imagine such a declaration would cause quite a bit of unrest."

"No, he hasn't. We're...not sure how to go about it, honestly."

"Does he have a Council formed?"

"A small one, we haven't incorporated specific sectors of the Nobility as of yet. Why do you ask?"

Thranduil stood and swept towards the fire, coming to lean against the mantel to face directly opposite me. He gazed into the flames for a moment before speaking again.

"I would make the announcement a public one, and exclude informing anyone beforehand. It doesn't give anyone any room to object, and forces you intentions into the public eye before it can be covered up and tucked away. Give an excuse, such as the coronation, and bring it to light along with the your decided date of the event." He looked sternly at me. "You have to understand that there are those who would consider this a great shame to the face of Gondor. Some may try to harm you for it. Even when you are married, being an official couple doesn't make you invulnerable."

"Is it because I am an elf?" I whispered.

"No" he murmured. "It is because you are male."

"I can't pretend to understand it."

"No one is going to pretend to understand you" he replied calmly. "I do, because I had an inkling of it after you refused some of the most beautiful and intelligent elleths in all of Middle Earth. But not everyone has had the privilege of knowing you. They will judge you on your race, gender, and heritage." He smiled wryly. "My name will only get you so far in the World of Men."

We left the antechamber and went down to the fourth circle to join the others for dinner. I was both relieved and apprehensive. My father's acceptance of everything meant that he understood how hard things were going to be, and was wise enough not to allow himself to be part of that hardship. I could not help but think it was a mere foreboding of the troubles that were to come. Even as Aragorn understood that my father had conceded, and practically worshiped him throughout dinner, I felt the stirrings of a great misgiving in my heart. After all, if one of the greatest of Kings would sacrifice his own ideals in the face of his sons happiness, who else would step up in his stead to take that happiness away?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title Translation**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Adar a Ion-Father and Son
> 
>  
> 
> **General Translations:**
> 
> Ionneg-my son
> 
> El sila erin lu e-govaned vin-A star shines on the hour of our meeting.
> 
>  Le nathlam hi-You are welcome here
> 
> **A/N:** Leaving it here for today. I've done several other writing assignments this morning that were actually work-related, so I'm a bit tired of technology at the moment. 
> 
> R&R


	27. Estellion Allen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Aragorn and Legolas slowly adjust to pre-monarchical life in Minas Tirith._

"Do you plan on leaving me in peace anytime soon?"

Aragorn chuckled and I shot him a thunderous glare. We were sitting in my study; leaning over a massive pile of agricultural proposals. I'd spent the better part of the morning shifting through them, giving myself a massive headache in the process. It seemed that every farmer wanted some form of compensation for the crops that had been destroyed during the invasion. Said grievances insisted on several square miles of un-plotted land to be cleared, and large shipments of seed from far away countries. I'd had no idea that corn could be so expensive in bulk, but I was learning swiftly. Aragorn had offered to help me determine which requests were reasonable, opposed to completely ludicrous. So far, he had succeeded only in making me utterly frustrated.

"You're not an orc" the future King said cheerfully, shoving a large stack of missives to the side. "Taking responsibility for every trampled vegetable will only make you recalcitrant."

"I'd still like to be able to say we did what we could to help everyone" I replied irritably, reaching for an inkwell. "But Gondor can't possibly spare ten acres of land per farmer, we'd be nothing but agriculture."

"My poor love" Aragorn crooned sympathetically, leaning forward and taking my hand in his. "Up to his pointy ears in paperwork."

"None of your cheek" I scolded, flushing as his lips gently brushed my knuckles. "You're distracting me."

"I think you need a rest" he replied, shifting his chair closer until his knees touched mine. Graceful fingers cupped my cheek and pulled me forward 'till my forehead rested against his. "We've not had a moment in a long while."

"That's because you're wont to undress me" I murmured distractedly, shivering as his mouth traced a fiery line down my neck. I shivered, and raised a hand to cup the back of his head. "You'll make me untidy."

"Illuvatar forbid you walk about the halls with a single hair out of place" he murmured, raising his head to capture my lips.

I hesitated a moment before giving in with a small sigh, returning his gentle but insistent passion with a fervor. Aragorn's lips curved into a smirk against mine and I gently tugged on a lock of his hair. He chuckled and kissed me hard, his hands coming up to tug me closer, our mouths opening so tongue could meet tongue. A soft cloud of papers fluttered to the floor as Aragorn gripped my hips, gently sliding his hands under my thighs so he could maneuver me out of my chair and onto his lap. I resisted, but settled after a moment, looping my arms about his shoulders as he gently pulled my tunic from the hem of my breeches. A firm hand threaded through my hair and brought me in for another scorching kiss as his fingers quested my skin; drawing nonsensical lines of passion against my flesh.

He continued upwards, the pads of his calloused hands brushing against my belly, ghosting softly over my chest. I couldn't help the small, partially restrained moan that escaped me. Aragorn's gaze remained on my face, his eyes heavy-lidded with passion as he watched my reactions. When he moved to remove my tunic I did not protest, lifting my arms to help further the process. Immediately, his lips found new places to explore; his tongue tracing feverish paths across my skin. I groaned as he once again found my nipples, his mouth and tongue dancing in a unanimous waltz against the sensitive flesh. My hips jerked involuntarily, dipping down and pressing into him. Aragorn stilled and a soft moan filled the air, I shivered and fussed with his shirt; watching hungrily as he pulled back and drew it over his head.

I let my fingers run over the tanned skin of his shoulders, bringing my lips to his neck and breathing in his essence as I explored. His hands gently came to rest at the small of my back as he let me take my time, occasionally shivering when I brushed up against a particularly sensitive spot. When I was done with my hands I used my mouth, relishing the illicit responses I could draw from him as my lips absorbed the viril taste of his flesh. Eventually, he resumed his exploration of me, his hands dipping under the waistline of my breeches. I stilled, another moan ripped from me only to be swallowed down by a hungry kiss. Aragorn's hips lifted to meet mine and a fierce rush of white enveloped my vision. I gasped and returned the gesture, shivering against the undulating movement that became a slow dance between us. My head felt hot and heavy, the tips of my fingers tingling with my rising arousal. Every nerve in my body was alight with a desirous ache and oh I wanted more. I arched hungrily at the wicked teasing of Aragorn's mouth and he moaned approvingly. Dislodging me, he took my hand and had me rise with him, his eyes burning into mine.

The world was swimming as we made a steady path to my bed, exchanging slow, languorous kisses. The back of my thighs hit the edge of the mattress and I melted back, instinctively opening my legs so Aragorn could lie between them. My knees gently brushed past his hips as he settled upon me, the bulk of his arousal brushing mine. His fingers tangled in my hair and I groaned as he found a teasing, suggestive rythmn against me; our clothes a restrictive barrier against what was unavoidably happening. I could feel the moist, all-consuming hunger of my need; it felt like a net of pulsing licentious desire. Aragorn's fingers scrabbled at the confining laces to my breeches and I lifted my hips to help him. His gaze was dark; his pupils nearly encompassing the irises with the darkness of his desire and I was only encouraged by the truth that he wanted me just as much as I did him. Warm, eloquent digits gently brushed the tip of my aching need and I forgot to breathe, arching into his touch; my tongue brushed hungrily over the apex of my lips as my eyes fluttered helplessly.

A loud knock at the entrance to my chambers jolted us both from our passionate reverie. Before either of us could say anything, the door swung open, revealing none other than my father. I flushed red as Aragorn practically threw himself over the side of the bed, scrambling to grab his shirt. I hastily rolled, crushing the almost painful reminder of my unfulfilled need into the mattress as I yanked open a side drawer to dig out a shirt. Aragorn appeared to be trying to form some sort of excuse and I rolled my eyes, lifting my hips so I could surreptitiously lace my breeches, before I flipped over once more to get out of bed, fully dressed. My father's expression looked determinedly resigned. He wore a red and gold robe to fend off the chill, and though he had seemingly left his crown in his rooms he still retained an air of majesty. Crossing his arms, he waited for us to recover ourselves before he deigned to speak.

"Faramir has informed me that the majority of Minas Tirith's repair has been finished, and that if you want to set a date for the coronation it should be soon, or you will risk running it close to the Spring Festival."

Aragorn appeared to flounder, opening his mouth and closing it several times before he deigned to speak.

"Of course" he said hastily. "I'll go speak to him now."

"I'll come with you" I offered, hurrying to join him.

My father's arm gracefully caught me just before I reached the door. I stared imploringly at him, hoping desperately that he would spare me the discomfort of a stern talking-to. It seemed that this time, I would not be so lucky.

"A moment, if you please, Ionneg."

The door shut firmly behind Aragorn and I was left to turn to my father, blushing furiously. He gazed contemplatively at the bed before turning his attention back to me. "I would hope that you're saving yourself for marriage" he said lightly, sweeping away and pouring himself a glass of wine.

"I am" I said weakly, fidgeting. He raised an elegant brow.

"It certainly didn't look that way."

"Oh, Adar" I exploded. "It was an accident, neither of us meant for it to get so far-"

"-But it did" he said sagely, taking a ruminative sip. I shut my mouth and shrugged helplessly. He smirked and sat down. "Do you think I am ignorant to the passions of youth? I know what passions burn beneath your skin, and how tempting it is to give in to what you desire, especially with the one you love." I gaped at him, wondering if he was really working up to giving me a 'talk.' Thranduil stared dreamily off into the distance. "The Chief Artist once caught your mother and I in the wine cellar. By the time I noticed he was watching, he'd sketched quite a bit of detail and ran off before I could catch him. By the next day, everyone in Mirkwood knew I had a dimple on my left butto-"

_"-Adar!"_ I shrieked, clapping a hand to my ears.

He chuckled mischievously.

"I'm sorry, was that too much?" I glared mutinously at him. He sighed. "My point is, that even though the desires of the flesh are tempting, you would do well to keep your virtue until you are wed. If you respect each other, you'll do well not to sully your name before it is made official." He drained the rest of his wine and stood. "I've said enough, it is up to you to decide what to do with my advice." He strode to the door. "I'm going to the stables to check on the steeds." He paused. "Oh, and Legolas, I'd relace yourself if I was you."

He left. Confused, I looked down and yelped, rushing to right the damage. Once I was fully sure that I was properly redressed, I left my rooms to find Aragorn and Faramir. It was early in the afternoon, and the weather was warm and pleasantly breezy. The White Tree was blossoming in the courtyard, and I paused to admire it before setting off to the fifth circle. I passed Eowyn near the Healing Houses, and stopped to greet her. She was doing quite well, though she was kept busy caring for the wounded and ill. When I told her I was seeking out Faramir, her face brightened and she offered to come along. We exchanged news all the way down to the Governed Circuit, taking a leisurely path to the Adviser's Hall. We found Aragorn in Faramir's office; where they stood over a large shadowclock positioned under a round skylight. Their heads were bent over the timepiece as they debated good-naturedly to one another.

"Have you decided on a date?" I asked idly.

Aragorn looked up and smiled at me, his expression of joy lessening a bit when he saw the Lady Eowyn.

"I think so" he replied, glancing at Faramir, who nodded. "I thought we might have the ceremony two weeks from now. It's a little close, but we can't afford to run it into the Spring Festival, and after that I have to ride out to Ithilien for a few days."

"May I come with you?" I queried.

"Of course you can" he said generously.

Faramir frowned.

"Won't you be leaving with your father after the Coronation?"

I hesitated.

"We're staying on a bit" I replied, smiling tightly. "I've got little else to do, and I wouldn't mind seeing some of the rest of Gondor."

"You musn't press him so" Eowyn piped up. "He'll think you don't want him here."

"Of course I do!" Faramir protested. "I was just asking a question."

"Won't you come walk the gardens with me?" Eowyn pressed, smiling sweetly. "I'd so love to show you the lavender, it's so beautiful in the spring."

Faramir flushed and assented, leaving Aragorn and I to ourselves. I moved to stand next to him, tracing a finger over the shadowclock. "Are we to announce our decision when we give the date?" I murmured.

"Yes" Aragorn said calmly. "Though I've not told anyone." He gazed up at the sunbeam pouring in from the skylight. "We're to announce it tomorrow, to give the city time to prepare."

"Good" I replied, taking his hand. "I'm tired of hiding us."

He smiled and the edges of his eyes crinkled.

"I hope Thranduil didn't give you a hard time" he murmured.

"He said some rather horrifying things regarding his youth but I think I'll survive it" I grumbled.

"I've tried not to think of what would have happened if we were left alone" he continued. "I think maybe it was a good thing that we were interrupted."

"It was" I agreed. "Because I certainly wasn't going to stop you from taking me."

"Now you're just being brash" he chuckled. "You would have."

"I honestly don't know what I would have done" I countered. "You have a way of stealing my thoughts and leaving me senseless."

"High praise, considering how damnably clever you are" he murmured, putting his hands on my waist. "Come, I've had a lunch sent up to the gardens. We can invite Faramir if you like."

"And Eowyn" I insisted, and he grimaced. "She has an interest in your Steward, and I plan on encouraging it."

He grumbled but assented, and we made our way to the gardens. Eowyn and Faramir joined us for lunch, and we made an afternoon out of it. Aragorn still didn't seem to be able to garner any respect for Eowyn, which confused me a little. I'd always thought the whole affair over and done with once she apologized, but it seemed there was more to it than I'd suspected. Faramir was, thankfully, oblivious. Eowyn doted on him for most of our time there, and it warmed my heart to see it. We set a time for the next day's announcement, and went our separate ways for the evening. Aragorn left me next to the citadel to have a conversation with Gloin, but not before making sure I was thoroughly debauched with his mouth. I beat a hazy trail back to my rooms to finish my paperwork and fell asleep at my desk. My dreams were a mix of a crowd of people in Gondorian White simultaneously cheering and yet at the same time cursing my name.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Hold still, _Ionneg._ "

"You're pulling it! Why do I need the braids in any case?"

Thranduil glared at me through the mirror in front of us, one hand hovering with a strand of hair in his grasp, the other holding a comb. He'd come charging up in the bare hours of morning, armed with garments and headpieces. Once he was satisfied I was awake, he had fair thrown me into the bath and proceeded to order a servant to scrub me clean until I was practically howling at the discomfort of it all. Once Thranduil was sure I was properly discomfited, he'd allowed me to get out and mercifully dry myself off. He'd then proceeded to rub several oils into my skin that didn't smell very good but were very soft. Now, we were sitting in front of my meager vanity, while he viciously dragged a comb through my hair and fashioned my braids. I hadn't had anyone touch my hair since I was fourteen, and I was ready to throw in the towel and declare myself sick of everything.

"If you don't want me to tie your hair in a knot, you'd do well to sit still."

"If this is what you're like for a simple announcement, I'm banning your from my chambers the day of the Wedding" I snapped as he jerked my head to the side. He snorted. "I'm being serious Adar, I'll have guards put up."

"I think if I was determined I could incapacitate the King's Guard" he said lazily. Drawing back, he inspected his handiwork. "That will have to do."

I remained sitting, catching my breath as he went to get my garments. The day before, I'd been sure I was ready to do this. Now, with a night plagued with terrible dreams, I wasn't as confident as I'd like. As little as I cared for the opinions of others, I still wanted Aragorn's rule to be successful and supportive. Without the approval of his people, a King had a hard task set out for him. My father reappeared carrying swatches of fabric in onyx, white, and deep greens.

"I had these fashioned for you late last night" he said calmly, setting his cargo down on a spare chair. Drawing out the robe, he laid it out before me. My breath caught as I observed the handiwork. It was black, with dark green ribbing in a flame-like semblance running up the arms. The undertunic and breeches were white. "The seamstress wasn't happy to be put to work so late, but I insisted, and I paid her well."

"Adar" I murmured, standing to take the undertunic. "It's perfect, thank you."

"I have something else" he added, and he pulled a familiar object out of the pile.

"I...I can't wear your crown" I protested. "I'm not a King."

"As Aragorn's consort, you're as good as one" he replied, shoving the piece into my hands. "You'll have to give it back, of course. But you may as well have it for today."

I swallowed as a soft film of tears momentarily obscured my vision.

"I...I don't know what to say."

"'Thank you' would be a good start" Thranduil remarked, stepping back. "Go ahead and change, I'm going to go find a place in the crowd."

I watched as the door closed behind him, feeling that even if I didn't have the People's Blessing, I still had my Father's. Shedding my robe, I hurried to pull on the myriad of clothes laid out before me. I couldn't help but hope that the coronation wouldn't involve so much fuss, but I guessed it'd probably be more. Once dressed, I stood in front of the mirror, staring at the elf that looked back out at me. I saw a shadow of my father; perhaps less hard and not as foreboding, but he was still there. I was reminded again of the gravity of my decision, and I left my rooms sobered. There was a mess of staff running back and forth in the halls, they didn't give me any notice and I tried my best to stay out of their way. The announcement was being held at the front of the citadel, with the people standing around a platform in front and behind of the White Tree. A few banners had been strung up, representing the colors and symbols of Gondor, but little other decoration had been done. People had begun to gather in the enormous space, and I hastened to make my way to the front, so I would have a clear way up onto the podium when it was time. Aragorn was already standing upon it, dressed in regal black and whites. He wore a simple representory silver circlet on his head, and had dug a cape up from somewhere. I thought him very grand. Faramir stood beside him looking solemn and taciturn, and I couldn't help but think him a good choice for a Steward. He was calm and collected and could be sensible when Aragorn was not. A small assembly of eight guards stood at carefully staggered intervals around the stage, looking fierce and detached. I wore one of my dirks at my waist, but it was purely ornamental.

As the crowd grew thicker, my father came to stand beside me. He cast an approving look at my appearance and turned to talk to one of his Council members.

"You're a fine sight" came a gruff voice beside me.

I smiled at Gimli, who was looking stiff and worried.

"Cheer up" I urged him. "All will be well."

"I've got my axe, just in case it isn't" he replied gruffly. "But for your sake, I do hope it all goes as planned."

At that moment, Gandalf took to the stage and I fell silent. I watched as he thumped his staff twice, a bright light engulfing the space for a brief moment before fading as swiftly as it had come. A low drone filled the air and the restless crowd grew silent. The old wizard then descended and came to stand beside Gimli, throwing me a stern look before facing forward. Aragorn fell back towards the White Tree, and Faramir walked forward to address the crowd.

"Lords and Ladies of Gondor!" he began, and his voice seemed magically amplified. I understood what Gandalf had done to the podium and smirked. A collective gasp ran through the crowd at Faramir's enchanted voice reached to the very rear of the gathering. "As you know, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, ancestor of Isildur, has come to live among us." A great cheer rose up, and I looked proudly at my love. He threw me a playful wink. "Two weeks from now, it has been decided that he will be crowned your King!"

The roar of approval came en masse. I clapped politely, keeping my eyes on the podium for my cue. Faramir stepped back, and Aragorn strode forward to take his place.

"Gondor has been generous to me in these past days" he said calmly. "I have lived among Elves, Hobbits, and Men; and now I come to serve you as your King." He paused. "I do not pretend that I am worthy of such a title, it is an honor far surpassing me to rule among you. I only ask for your loyalty, and your trust. Gondor deserves a leader that can be a voice for his people, not only for himself, and I will attempt to be just that. I hope you will all join me in rebuilding our city and our Kingdom." He waited for the cheers to die down before he spoke again. "And now, I have one final announcement." He nodded at me, and I stepped forward to join him. Faramir, who had been about to move forward again, looked confused, but acquiesced to my presence. As I joined Aragorn on the stage, a collective whisper swept through the crowd. I felt suddenly terribly nervous. Taking my hand, Aragorn drew me forward with him to face the crowd. "Just as much as a King needs his people, he also needs a supportive and generous spouse who can advise him in times of need." He smiled at me, and I returned the gesture, albeit nervously. "Legolas Greenleaf, Son of Thranduil, Morningstar of Mirkwood will be joining me in my rule as your King's Royal Consort. He will govern by my side, and be as much involved in Gondor's rule as I am. Consider him as much a King as I am, he is raised for it, and he knows the ways of governance as well as I do."

A collective silence met our words for a few moments. After a time, the buzz of whispers started to move through the crowd. I could feel Faramir's disbelief at my back, and it made me more uncomfortable. Some in the crowd looked at us with a knowledgeable and approving eye, others looked simply confused, and yet more looked indescribably disgusted. I looked helplessly at Aragorn, who raised his eyebrows encouragingly.

"I am of elf-kind" I began hesitantly, and a stone-cold silence fell once again. "Though I've known many ways of rule, and have seen many years, I understand the proclivities and misapprehensions of Man. I am not here to change your ways, or to bring about a great spectacle of elven reform. My people are leaving these shores, and I have chosen to remain to be with my beloved." I took a deep breath. "I ask that you do not see me as an outsider, but a willing representative of your wishes and desires for Gondor. As much as Aragorn is the face of your determination and strength, let me be your kindness, understanding, and growth."

A smattering of tentative applause rose from the gathering and I felt my hopes rise a little bit. Aragorn was beaming at me, and I felt myself flush. As we stood before the people of Gondor, he lifted my hand and tenderly kissed it, and my heart fluttered like a caged bird. We made the announcement unchallenged, no calls came to counter it, though I suspected there would be those who tried in the weeks to come. I had seen the faces that looked at us with incredulity and derision. But I had also seen those who approved, and it gave me hope. So as we faced the murmuring crowd that had been presented with our decision, I could not help but think we might be able to make something of ourselves if all did not go badly. We could face what was to come no matter the challenge, as long as we did it together.


	28. No Dirweg!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Our couple is inundated by a threat whose source is terrifying and mysterious._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of those times where I will warn you of factors in this chapter ahead of schedule. There is some horror in this chapter, though it has more to do with placement and articulation than the level of the graphics. I make it a habit of writing at least six horror pieces every Halloween, so I have some experience with atmosphere and detail. This is also the pre-herald to my main antagonist OC, so you will want to read carefully in order to understand what is going on. So **WARNING** : Horror, Violence, and Gore. 
> 
> **Title Translation:**   
>  No Dirweg!-Beware!

There was a Gondorian Toadstool in my chambers.

I'd woken with a sense of unease, sprawled on my belly among the sheets. At first, it was only a mild discomfiting sense of trouble. I'd groaned and yanked the covers over my head, shifting slightly before finding a more comfortable spot. Almost immediately, the stench of rotting meat invaded my senses and I threw the covers off, instinctively crouching into a defensive stance. The sight that met my eyes was both horrifying and strangely amusing.

Gondorian Toadstools stand six feet high on average, and they like swampy soil. The 'frills' on the undersides of their caps are lined with razor-sharp teeth, and can stretch immense spans to catch prey. They are generally a deep onyx, and their thick stems throw forth a noxious gas in clouds of black smoke. My rooms were currently engulfed with the horrid stuff; it hovered ominously against the walls and over my bed. A low, glutinous growling sound was coming from the plant, and I scooted back until my shoulders hit the wall. It was situated in a large pot with heavily irrigated soil, but I knew it could extricate itself at any time to come after me. I cursed myself for leaving my weapons in the study. Aragorn had had a lucky break in the Dead Marshes with his pipeweed, but I wasn't a smoker and my love was surely still asleep. We'd drunk heavily the night before and I myself was still feeling a bit fuzzy.

The Toadstool gave a low and ominous growl, and I watched as a pale grey, tubular root came lifting out of the pot with an ominous squelching sound. Three more soon followed, and I felt my nails dig into the skin of my arms. The gas was working it's way into my lungs, and I felt dangerously out-of-sync. Parts of the room seemed to swell to immense proportions before returning to a regular size. A feeling of elation that had nothing to do with my current situation rose within my mind, and I wondered how inebriated a predator could possibly make its prey before consuming it. Feeling that I had to do something, I rolled off the bed and onto all fours, shaking my head like a wet dog as I tried to retain my equilibrium. There was a slithering sound at the foot of the bed and I watched as two immense roots paved a sinister, slimy trail across the flagstone. As I watched, the larger of the two lifted up slightly and revealed a great, blinking eyeball at its tip. It observed me dispassionately for a moment, and another rumbling growl issued forth.

Grasping at straws, I let my hand shoot out to grasp the other root and tugged with all of my strength. There was a sickening sound of flesh being ripped from flesh and the appendage came free; spilling a dark red fluid onto my palms that hissed and began to burn. A great howling rose from the monstrous mushroom and a countless number of roots came spilling 'round; lifting up to reveal fifty or so eyes, all bloodshot and dark as onyx, blinking in a terrible unison. As I scrambled to rid myself of the acidic red fluid, some of them appeared to suck in on themselves; vanishing into their tubular sockets only to writhe and push forth circular jaws similar to those of a leech. Acting as if on singular command, they shot towards me; latching onto my skin and sucking with a fervor that left me dizzy. As my flesh broke a burst of pain filled my synapses and I cried out. Fumbling desperately behind me, I yanked open a drawer to a retrieve a small knife; throwing my shoulder forward to stab at the writhing throng drawing blood from my body. As I severed the mutated roots left and right they exploded only to spill more of the corroding crimson liquid onto my skin, burning me further. My head was growing light with rapid blood loss and I wondered if I was going to die as pathetically as I thought I was; at the mercy of a giant fungi. Just as I had given up on any hope of escape my door crashed open and a familiar roar filled the room.

"I'll save you laddie!"

I almost wept with relief as Gimli flew forward, cleaving the giant mushroom cleanly in half. The parasitic roots withdrew, hissing and turned their gaze onto my friend. I watched in horror as the two severed pieces of the mushroom quivered, and with a great bubbling noise shivered in place to form two separate plants. Each in turn lifted their roots and shot them towards Gimli, growling their united fury. Regaining some of my senses I hastily rose and went for my dirks, swiping them from where they leaned against the wall in my study. Rotating swiftly I leapt across the room in three bounds and began to hack at the roots that were swiftly surrounding my comrade. They spilled forth a great rush of acidic liquid which burned my bare feet but I kept going, severing what I could at every angle I could manage.

The Gondorian Toadstools suddenly buckled and bowed, their tops swelling to enormous size, revealing great snarling swatches of ravenous teeth that drooled and began to stridulate with a hissing sound. Gimili let out a curse and ran forward, ignoring my cry to step back. Swinging mightily, he gave his axe a great heave and lopped off the pileus of the one on the left. Catching on to his purpose I did the same to the fungi on the right. There was a great bubbling noise and the remaining roots screeched in what I hoped was immense pain. Gasping, I retreated back as the stalks wobbled ominously, turning precariously before crashing to the ground. A great cloud of noxious gas escaped the writhing stems and the room spun as I retched. Firm, trustworthy hands steadied me, and I allowed Gimli to lead me out of my rooms.

"You're in a right state" he muttered when were a good distance away. "I was worried something like this might happen."

"Who would do such a thing?" I said woozily, staggering slightly.

" _Och!_ Who wouldn't? Half the city's bothered as a badgered bumble bee at your wedding announcement. But it was someone who had access to your rooms one way or another, I'll grant you that."

We made it halfway down the stairs before I found myself needing to vomit again, and let my head rest against the cool stones of stairwell while Gimli kept a careful watch from a respectful distance away. Once I was sure I wouldn't be sullying the floor with any more of my bodily fluids, I began a slow descent down. Despite the effect that the serious burns and major blood loss had on my body, I was still feeling decidedly inebriated from the Toadstool's excretions and it did little to boost my spirits. We passed under the Tower of Ecthellion and out into the breezy courtyard, where the air soothed me considerably. Leaving me to sag onto a bench, Gimli went to have a discussion with one of the guards. A terrible fear suddenly overwhelmed me. If I had been attacked in my own quarters Aragorn would logically have been assaulted as well. Standing, I reeled as the world spun about me, but made my way over to where my friend was, suddenly desperate. The Guard looked mildly shocked at my distinctly horrid appearance, but bowed nevertheless.

"Send some of your men to check on Lord Aragorn" I gasped. "He may be at risk as well."

I watched, feeling a little better, as a team of six guards broke off from the group to rush back to the tower. Losing all semblance of strength, I sagged and felt the edges of my vision darken. The last thing I was able to recall was the ground rushing up to meet me as I was plunged into a blissful blackness.  
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The first thing I was aware of was a softly calloused hand twining through mine. It wrapped around every digit; the thumb swiping gentle caresses now and then over my apparently bandaged palm. The warmth and relief that suffused me was all-encompassing. Aragorn was alright, well enough to come and sit beside me in what I assumed were the Healing Houses. The sound of pages rustling indicated he was reading a book or shuffling through paperwork. The soft, rustic scent of parchment filled my nose and I allowed a small smile to ghost over my lips, though I did not open my eyes. Without moving, I slowly assessed the condition of my body. Nothing was broken, I could tell by subtly focusing on each limb, searching for acute pain before I moved to another. The skin under my bandages was burned, but seemed to have mostly healed and would be ready to expose to the air again soon. I still felt mildly lightheaded from the blood loss, but not alarmingly so. I guessed, taking into account my state when I fell unconscious and my elvish healing abilities, that I had been away from the world for a better part of two days. The realization did not alarm me so much as irritate me, for there was much I could have missed.

"I know you're awake."

Smiling, I slowly allowed my eyes to open, blinking away the last vestiges of sleep that lingered on my heavy lids. Turning, I met my love's gaze and gently brought his hand to my lips. Lines reminiscent of a long time spent worrying smoothed from his face and he put down the book he was reading, moving forward to lean over me.

"I'm sorry to have slept for so long, _meleth-nin"_ I murmured, my voice hoarse from disuse.

"You had great need to" Aragorn soothed, brushing his fingers over my brow. "Each of us needs time to heal when we are wounded."

"Was anyone else harmed?" I queried, struggling to sit up.

"Gimli had a few burns, but no one else was targeted" he replied, hastening to aid me.

"Mm" I murmured, settling into the pillows. "So the attack was solely focused upon me."

"It certainly seems so" my love agreed, pursing his lips.

"Have you found who is responsible?"

"No" Aragorn said darkly. "Though I've searched for clues day and night."

"Getting the Toadstool into my rooms can't have been easy" I mused. "The perpetrator may have burns or lesions of their own."

"That's very true" Aragorn agreed. "I'll pass the word around, though I don't know how many will rise to the occasion."

"It seems I am more hated then I thought" I chuckled. "Enough to attempt to kill me in a degrading yet truly memorable way."

"You are not hated" Aragorn said gruffly. "I love you, more than the sun and sky and stars. Gimli came to your rescue and you should have seen Thranduil in here yesterday."

"Oh" I groaned. "I imagine he's been pleasant with all of this."

"Quite" the dark-haired man grumbled. "He insisted on caring for you himself, and wouldn't let any of the other healers touch you. I had to throw a fit this morning, just to get him to go and rest. I'm assuming he'll barge in at any moment."

"Well you must kiss me first" I teased, reaching up to cup his cheek. "Otherwise we'll get an awful scolding."

Aragorn's eyes softened and he leaned forward to tenderly press his lips against mine. We remained there a few moments, sharing the pleasure of being reunited. After a minute, I drew back reluctantly, rubbing my bandaged hand absentmindedly.

"I wonder if there's anything I can do to earn the people's favor."

Aragorn stilled for a moment, as if deeply in thought.

"Those agricultural proposals" he said slowly. "How are you doing with them?"

"I'm nearly done" I sighed, feeling my lids grow heavy again. "Why do you ask?"

"Have you figured out a reasonable compromise?"

"I think so" I began uncertainly. "Each farmer wanted an extra ten acres of land, but I divided it down to an acceptable amount of two acres each. Gandalf has offered to bless each new plot, and my father volunteered his people to help prepare the soil." I smiled weakly. "I will deliver each missive personally, and I should be done by the wedding if all goes well."

"That's very well done" my love commented, sounding impressed. "I was about to suggest we announce your decision, but I can see you've thought of a better way to handle it."

"I think the public has had about enough of announcements for a while" I sighed, pressing my cheek into the pillow. "Forgive me, I'm terribly weary."

"Of course" he whispered, stroking my hair. "I'll be here if you need me."

"Hmm" I murmured. "Thank you meleth-nin."

My dreams were soft and easy. I floated on an endless cloud of softest white. Occasionally, the busy noises of the Healing House broke through my consciousness but soon faded. I was aware of Aragorn's presence and it soothed me, buoying me up into a peaceful, dreamless state. At some point, someone awakened me to help me drink an herbal medley, but I was soon fast asleep again. Mercifully, it seemed my father had decided against visiting that day, and I was left to my snoozing devices.

It was late in the day before I was able to rouse myself again. The long, stained-glass windows threw multicolored hues on the white sheets surrounding me. I was in a single room, with no one to share it with. Glancing over at the chair beside me, I assumed Aragorn must have gone to have dinner. I was feeling a bit hungry myself, but I didn't want to bother the staff. Reaching over to the small bedside table, I poured myself a glass of water before sitting back, unsure of what to do. The answer came in the form of Gandalf, who settled himself in Aragorn's vacant chair. He stared at me a moment before speaking, his bushy brows drawn together in an expression of consternation.

"I'm not here to comfort you" he said gruffly.

"I assumed as much" I sighed, taking a sip of water.

"You should know that this was an incredibly tedious, expensive, and discreet attempt on your life. It takes an immense amount of skill to transport a dark creature into any city where I reside without my notice. Whoever did this will likely try again, and you may not be so lucky next time."

"Well, at least we can cross any dull-minded individuals off the list" I joked weakly.

"This is not a laughing matter!" Gandalf snapped, and I sobered. "I warned you that the road you are going down would be hard, and now you see how hard it is!" He pulled a disgusted face. "I don't expect you to understand the gravity of this situation, but you must at least understand the consequences of your actions."

"I do" I said, smiling, and he looked at me as if I'd grown two heads. "I knew something like this might happen, and that it will likely happen again. But that doesn't change how much I love Aragorn. My heart will always belong to him, whether I am dead or alive. I won't step away simply because the way is dangerous."

"I confess, I was hoping you wouldn't announce it until closer to the wedding" Gandalf grumbled. "But you wanted to give Gondor time to adjust, and I respect you for it."

"Aragorn and I only want what's best for Gondor" I murmured. "After time passes, and if we have made our best effort, I will step down if the people still do not love me. I will allow Aragorn to defer to all affairs of the state, and will remain consort and heirmother."

Gandalf stood, harrumphing as he did so. Gathering his staff he eyed me shrewdly.

"I can't see your existence ending in anything but dead or dull" he said sharply.

"I am loved" I replied calmly. "Even if I am dead, no one can change that. And as long as I have Aragorn's heart, life can never be dull."


	29. Shadows In the Dunes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Aragorn and Faramir discuss the Steward's concerns over the upcoming marriage. The identity of Legolas' attacker is partially revealed._

Gondor was slowly but surely preparing for my coronation and subsequent wedding. Everywhere I looked, someone was preparing something of some manner or the other for the ceremony. Servants scoured the outside of the Tower; fixing hooks for banners and insets for ribbons. Others had begun setting up white wooden chairs with a great recline; there were about one hundred assembled and four hundred more to go. I spent my days looking for tasks that needed to be done, but found I was more in the way than anything else. Most of my mornings were spent pouring over extensive trade agreements from foreign rulers. The Haradrim had sent one of their Czars to confer with Faramir, and they spent most of the day locked in the Council Hall. I'd seen little of my Steward since the day of the announcement. Indeed, he seemed bent on avoiding me ever since, and it disappointed me sorely.

I'd gotten no closer to discovering who Legolas' attacker was. Gandalf seemed to think it was a great mage, perhaps a sorcerer, though we had no known magic-wielders in the city. Thranduil had taken up going over our guest roster, adamant that something would pop up in his research. The rest of the elves were busy helping Legolas secure fair land and proper loss compensation for the farmers. Gimili had gone along to assure that there wouldn't be anymore attacks under his watch. He'd taken to sending guards up to Legolas' chambers at night, for which I was indescribably grateful. It saved me the trouble of convincing him that he needed it, and allowed me to rest easy at night. Once I had gotten over my initial fear of a second, inevitable attack, I had to turn my attentions to the neglected affairs of the city. My time was not my own, and I had no right to ignore the needs of the people with so many others on hand to take care of what had to be done.

It was early morning, and I had taken it upon myself to visit Faramir before he got himself too busy. His rooms were in the fourth circle, but I knew he would have made his way to the Council Hall by that time. Carefully skirting a large group of visiting dwarfs, I entered the ovular building with a feeling of trepidation. I did not know if my Steward's uneasiness came from prejudice or discomfort at seeing the realm run so differently. I'd chosen him for his open-mindedness and will to succeed, but he had proved me wrong in the one subject I thought he might support me. Making my way up a large staircase, I regretted that I would have to make him uncomfortable to gauge his intentions, but it was necessary that I get along with him were we to manage together. Stopping outside his office, I knocked lightly, waiting as I listened to the sound of his papers shuffling, and then the tread of his boots on the floor as he rose to let me in. Cracking the door a bit, Faramir's face twisted into apprehensive resignation before returning to something more neutral.

"My Lord" he murmured. "I wasn't expecting you."

"I've come to ask if we might sit down a moment and speak plainly."

He hesitated, seemingly at odds with himself, before he opened the door to allow me entrance. He did not offer me a chair, but I took one in front of his desk in any case. Faramir dithered a moment more before his shoulders slumped and he went to sit behind his desk, pouring himself a glass of wine.

"What seems to be the matter?" he queried, refusing to meet my eyes.

"I think you know" I chided gently. "Faramir, if we're to work together we must be honest with each other. You've been avoiding me of late, and whether you like it or not, I need you as my Steward. I do not pay you to flit about in the shadows and act as if I'm above you. You know I'm not."

"You are" he said firmly.

"You fought to defend Osgiliath before I was even here" I reminded him. "You nearly died doing so, and I do not forget it. I will soon be King, but that does not place me higher than you. I will be King, and Legolas will be my consort." He flinched and I sighed. "What about it bothers you so?"

Faramir was silent for a while, and I feared he was culminating some sort of urgent excuse to leave.

"It...it isn't how it's done" he muttered.

"Because we are both men?" I asked pointedly.

"Nay" he protested. "It's not my business what you do, as long as you're happy." He swallowed. "But...you can't have any heirs, and that leaves your name in a vulnerable position." He gestured helplessly. "I've always known the day would come when a King would take the throne. Denethor-my father-he was stuck in his ways and if he was still alive, I reckon you'd be finding it harder than anything to claim your rightful place. But now, once you...once..."

"Once I die" I pushed him gently, and he nodded.

"Yes...that...when you do, there'll be no one to take your place. And then the care of the realm will go to me, or one of my sons if I am gone by then."

"And you'd not like to see that happen?"

"No" he said darkly. "I think that Gondor has seen enough Stewards to last many lifetimes." He coughed and shifted uncomfortably. "I fear...that in my old age I might become like my father, and if that's the case, I don't want to be anywhere near the throne." He took a hearty sip of wine. "No one mentions it, but my father's father, Ecthelion, was not wont to mental stability in the years before his death, and so my father echoed such degradation. Boromir was weak against the Ring, and so the story goes."

"...You think it is hereditary?" I mused.

"It may just be a whim" Faramir replied. "But I'll not risk it. I'll step down and give the Stewardship to another before I see another of my line brought to the Throne."

We were silent as I considered the enormity of Fararmir's words. He was telling me thought their was a vein of mental illness borne in age in his bloodline. That alone must have taken great strength to admit. It wasn't the idea of Legolas and I that bothered him, it was the risk of what should happen if we should leave our reign without an heir. Until a short time ago, I had shared his worries, but I knew otherwise now. I didn't feel comfortable sharing Legolas' privacies without him there, so I looked to reassure him differently.

"Faramir, the matters of an heir have already been arranged" I replied. "You have naught to worry about."

"You have found someone of your lineage? he asked, astonished.

"You...could say that" I said slowly.

The relief on the Steward's face was evident. Lines of stress that had been ever-present on his face recently disappeared as if they had never been. I didn't like placing a partial-lie in front of him to assuage his doubts, but it wasn't my place to share Legolas' and I's ventures. He wouldn't thank me for it, and I didn't like to count my chickens before they hatched. Faramir and I sat a while longer, going over the things he had missed in his fervent avoidance. I didn't hold it against him, it was a hard thing to discuss. After a while, he took me over to his shadowclock and began discussing the niceties of the wedding. It brought a warmth in my soul, to see that I had his approval once more.

"How have your meetings with the Haradrim gone?" I asked, leaning against the wall next to the shadowclock. Faramir pulled a face.

"The people of the Harad are nomadic" he said slowly. "They have no King, but occasionally a great Lord rises to claim much of the land, but he is not considered a ruler."

"And the Czar you have been speaking to is one of them?" I pressed.

"He is" Faramir agreed. "His name is Na'man and he rules all of Far Harad, though I do not know how, he has claimed much of the land South of the river Poros. His interests are mostly of trade, but I trust him very little. Ever have the Haradrim been swayed by the Dark, and they are little changed since Sauron's fall." He sighed. "Still, Gondor has warred against them for many an Age, and I would like to see some form of peace. We still need to rebuild, and invasions from the South are the last thing we need."

"Does he have anyone with him?"

"Two warriors, and his wife Yusraa. I have met her only once, and she speaks little of the Common Tongue" Faramir shifted uncomfortably. "There's something strange about her, but I can't place it."

"Do you think I might speak with them?"

"If you wish" he said glancing at the shadowclock. "I have a meeting with them in an hour, but I think you should meet them under less official terms. I'll see if I can arrange a dinner."

I thanked him and we eventually parted ways. Gradually, I made my way up to the Healing Houses where Elonise the Chief Healer stole me away to tend to a farmer with terrible gout. After giving his nurse specific instructions for his care, I took a brief lunch in the fourth circle and headed back to the Council Hall to go through some papers. I had my own offices on the first level, and only Faramir had constant permissable access. I groaned to see the pile of scrollwork on my desk but dived into it nevertheless. I was about four hours into my work when Faramir came in to inform me that dinner with the Haradrim would be in the fourth circle a little past sundown. I thanked him and he left me to my own devices. I was halfway through my formidable pile when the bells rang to announce the ending of the workday. Half-heartedly glancing out the window, I determined to finish after dinner and left to dress for supper.

"You look fussed over the world" came a soft voice as I passed under the Tower of Ecthelion. I turned and smiled at Legolas, who came forward to kiss me. I savored the brief moment of affection before pulling away. "What has my love so forlorn?" he murmured, stroking my cheek.

"I'm up to my ears in proposals" I sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Won't you join me for dinner? I've got to dine with the Haradrim."

"Of course" he assented, his eyes twinkling. "If only to make sure you don't make a mess of it."

"Don't jest" I scolded lightly, brushing my fingers over his lips. "I'll be down in a minute."

I left him for my rooms and hurriedly threw together an outfit. I regretted not having time to bathe, but there was little I could do about it. A servant came to offer a drink but I refused, preferring to slip out the door as quickly as I had come. Legolas was waiting for me where I had left him, and I proffered my arm. Moving as one, we began to make our way to the fourth circle.

"How goes your work with the farmers?" I asked as we past under the Gate to the Healing circuit.

"Better than I expected" Legolas replied breezily, tucking himself closer to me. "One of the farmers ran me off with a pitchfork but Adar put him straight."

"I'd have liked to see that" I chuckled.

"His arm should recover within a week" my lover said worriedly. "And we gave him the two acres in any case."

"Your father knows better than anyone that if you can't garner someone's respect through good deeds, you must earn it in some other way."

"Violence is not always the answer" he replied, rolling his eyes. "But I suppose I have to thank him for not leaving me full of holes."

We were mostly undisturbed through the rest of our ascent. Eowyn greeted us, but she seemed in a hurry and we didn't have the time to stop and talk. Some of the dwarves were having a brawl outside an Eatery but the guards seemed to have it well in hand. Our dinner was being held in the Scarlet Room, which was attached to the public tavern but well out of the way. Some of the higher ranking Nobles rented out the space on special occasions, but it was mostly reserved for Royalty. The room was scalloped, with a marble table sitting in the center and branching out to contour to the walls. A red velvet curtain could be pulled to give the diners more privacy, but I opted to leave it open. We were watched over by two members of the King's guard, who stood in taciturn silence by the great oaken doors. It seemed we had arrived earlier than our guests, and we sat down to wait while an attendant poured drinks.

"I've never spoken to a Haradrim in person" Legolas mused, playing with his napkin. "I wonder what it's like, living among the sands."

Faramir joined us in a few minutes, accompanied by Eowyn, who was resplendent in a deep green gown. She seemed overjoyed with her dinner companion and beamed at us across the table. We fell into an easy, comfortable conversation and I was glad that we would not be speaking with the Haradrim alone. A while later, the dinner gong announced the arrival of Na'am and his wife. They were dressed in richly embroidered silks of orange and red, and they wore slippers on their feet. We rose and bowed, and our guests returned the favor. I could not see much of Yusraa's face, as it was covered by a veil. But her eyes were a vibrant green and lined with khol, the gaze she offered us was unnervingly intelligent and observant.

"King Elessar" Na'am said in clipped Common. "We are honored to be guests in your Kingdom."

"I am not a King yet" I replied gently. "But the honor is mine. Won't you sit down?"

They did as they were asked, and a servant came 'round to deliver the first course.

"Faramir tells me you've invested much time in your land" I said carefully, picking up my spoon. "Tell me, what do you see for Harad in the future?"

Na'am eyed me carefully, weighing his answer.

"My people have lived separate from one another for a long time" he replied. "I desire to bring them together as one, so we may expand Harad's rule and become a Kingdom worth its weight in gold."

"A just endeavor" Legolas said lightly. "What business do you have with Gondor?"

The Czar's eyes narrowed slightly.

"We have many resources that Gondor may profit from" he said smoothly. "And in turn, Gondor has much in trade that we need."

"The Haradrim have fabrics that our seamstresses can work more easily with" Faramir said idly. "And the spices they use in their foods are nearly unheard of on this side of the river."

"Is your food very different?" Legolas pressed. "You must think our cuisine strange."

Na'mar stiffened again, and opened his mouth as if to speak but Yusraa was quicker.

"It is strange" she said in a thickly accented voice. "That a consort would speak so out of turn."

Legolas flushed red and looked down at his plate, I felt a rush of anger but pushed it down.

"Legolas is not only my consort but my advisor. He is as much involved in the running of this Kingdom as I am."

"Of course" Na'mar said coolly. "I apologize for my wife."

There was an air of tension in the room that I found hard to dissipate. Yusraa obviously did not like Legolas, and it bothered me greatly. It wasn't a virulent hatred, but a nonchalant disdain, which was in so many ways much worse. Na'mar told us of the jungles in Far-Harad, and I thought the description of them glorious. I'd never heard of 'monkeys' but I thought the Czars depiction of them amusing. It seemed that the Haradrim, despite their rough appearance, had a great love of nature. Water was a precious thing among their people, and it was scarce to come by. There were few villages but the majority of them lay along the coast, and it was there that Na'mar intended to expand his regime. He claimed that he did not use violence to sway the opinions of the people, but I could see the way his eyes burned when he talked about his 'diplomatic successes.' It reminded me all the more that we were dealing with a culture steeped in blood and cruelty. I wondered many times if there was really any possibility that we could trade with Harad without dire consequences.

Eowyn made several efforts to draw Yusraa into conversation, but was rebuffed every time. She seemed far more interested in observing the dialect of the men, and I was reminded for a moment of the tales of Morwen Eledhwen. Though dark and strong willed in her own respects, Yusraa was far more calculating and cruel. I guessed that she would have to be, to be the wife of a Czar. Nothing she did was without massive deliberation, even the way she picked up a utensil was fastidiously pointed. The more we spoke, the more she made me nervous. There was an uncanny strangeness about her that I could not place. Gandalf peeked in during the third course to greet our guests, and his gaze lingered long on her. This didn't do anything to assuage my worries, and when he left I determined to speak with him as soon as possible.

"Will you be here for the Coronation?" I asked lightly.

We were just finishing the dessert, and I was eager to have some time with Legolas. He'd been fidgety ever since Yusraa had admonished him, and I wanted us to have some time alone so I could reassure him. The attendants had brought forth an impressive array of confectionery. There were desserts I didn't even recognize, and I was grateful for the distraction. Each of us chose something different and we settled down with our respective selections. Na'mar looked up and smiled salaciously.

"We had planned to leave before the date" he replied, reaching for his wine. "We've been here overlong, and Harad does not wait for our return. I expect that things will be in disarray when we arrive. I hope it does not offend you."

"Of course not" I said hastily.

"You must have such magnificent ceremonies in the South" Legolas said, speaking for the first time since he had been scolded.

"It isn't any of your business, consort" Yusraa snapped.

Both Na'mar and I opened our mouths to refute her rudeness, but a sudden choking sound stopped us cold. I whipped my head around to see that Legolas had gone deathly pale, and his fingers gripped his chair 'till the knuckles were ghostly white. His chest heaved, as if he couldn't get in enough to breathe, and I feared he had swallowed something and it had lodged in his airway. His eyes flitted to me in an expression of terror, and I was filled with a sensation of utter horror.

"Legolas!" I gasped, knocking my chair over to hasten to him.

Faramir had risen in a panic, and Eowyn had vanished out into the night, possibly to fetch a Healer. The guards at the door shifted into an offensive position, and their spears crossed to prevent anyone from entering or leaving. As I watched, a thin runnel of blood slithered from my lover's mouth. It tangled into his hair, turning the glorious blonde into a deathly crimson. Legolas eyes had rolled into the back of his head, his hands going limp as he began to convulse. I shook his shoulders helplessly, everything I knew about healing going out the window.

_"This can't be happening"_ I thought desperately.

I lowered Legolas to the ground, grasping at his hands as they scrabbled at his throat. His skin was rapidly turning color, a dusky blue rising to cover the flushed ivory. His eyes refocused for a moment, and his gaze turned to me and I wept as I saw the apology in his expression. Legolas was prepared to die, and I wasn't willing to let him go. I cried out as another wave of uncontrollable spasms overtook him, seeming to come from the very core of his being. There was shouting in the corridor, but I didn't heed it. My world had spun into a point as I watched the love of my life go utterly, steadfastly still. And as I helplessly searched the room to see if anyone would answer my plight, my eyes met Yusraa's mossy gaze. She was serenely immobile, and her fingers had tightened on her glass, but she did not panic. Instead, I felt the laughter in her cruelly hidden expression. Anguished, I felt the trembling rage in my chest explode, and I lunged over the table to assault a sea of emerald green.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you all will hate me for this but I'm leaving it here for today.   
> Poor Legolas has taken a lot of heat over the last few days, and I hope I can be forgiven for such rough use of his character. Thank you to those who have commented for your kind thoughts, and I will see you tomorrow!
> 
> R&R


	30. Ancient Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The pursuit of Legolas' attacker continues..._

"Sire, we can't let you go without knowing that you'll no longer act so rashly."

Cursing, I paced the room I had been confined to. We were in a secure antechamber in the third circle, a fire burning cheerily in the grate, but the circumstances of my surroundings could bother me less. Around me, the Watch gave wide birth, their eyes apprehensive of their King in his terrible anger. Legolas had been whisked away by Gandalf, immobile and unbreathing. After attacking Yusraa, I was subdued by the guards and taken to where I currently resided. I was placed under watch by my own men, restrained with firm words and apologetic tones whenever I attempted to leave. Faramir remained with me, his face pale and his expression grim. My thoughts were frantic. Legolas was somewhere, cold as death, hovering on the brink of what was beyond life. I would not see him pass into the Beyond without being by his side.

"Rashly!" I spat, sidestepping a guard only to be confronted by another. "My betrothed's murderer walks these halls, and you ask me not to be rash!"

"Sire-" Faramir began. "-Aragorn. You attacked a foreign dignitary's wife with no probable cause. It can't be overlooked. Until you can think clearly and not go running off to chop her head off, you will remain here." I snarled at him and he sighed. "It's for your own good" he murmured, placing a hand on my shoulder. "You can't go about these things like that."

"I know she did it" I snapped. "You should have seen her, Faramir."

"I did" he said darkly. "And I agree there is something terrible in her, but we cannot accuse her of murder without some sort of proof."

The door to the chamber opened and Gandalf walked in. He looked pale and weary, leaning heavily upon his staff as his grave gaze swept over us.

"Legolas has stabilized" he said gruffly. "Though I do not know for how long."

"He was poisoned" I said harshly. "Poisoned right in front of me, and I didn't see it."

"Legolas was not poisoned" the old wizard replied, and I looked at him in surprise. "Elves are not so easily overthrown, their systems readily flush insidious substances from their bodies." He sighed. "Legolas' system was invaded by the _lithui dath._ "

"And what is that?" I pressed.

"It is an ancient magic, which triggers the elven ability to succumb to grief; the only difference being that is works much faster, causing simultaneous organ shutdown."

"I...don't understand" I said slowly. "Legolas was happy, maybe a bit perturbed, but not forlorn."

Gandalf paused, as if weighing his words.

"Long have the elves been mysterious and ethereal. Illuvatar created them to be immune to illness and disease, but they are greatly affected by things like heartbreak and sorrow. The _lithui dath_ works not on the body alone, but also the mind. It gives the receiver a sense of irreversible loss and desperation. As an elf, Legolas body responded in turn by shutting down, as a desolate mind can only mean one thing; death. If the caster is strong enough, the spell can work within minutes, seconds even. It takes a great amount of discipline, and a good amount of heartlessness."

"I know Yusraa was behind it" I muttered. "I don't know if she cast the spell, but she is involved in one way or another."

"Unless you can prove it, we have no choice but to let them go" Faramir cut in, looking at Gandalf.

"In order to do so, I would need to trace the signature of the spell, and in order to do that I would need to leave the pestilence within the afflicted in order to follow the thread" Gandalf replied. "I cannot do that, as Legolas would not survive. I'm sure whoever did that was fully aware of it. We must wait until the perpetrator makes another move, or resign ourselves to never knowing."

"Would the Gondorian Toadstool have left a magical signature?" I asked.

Gandalf paused and stroked his beard.

"It may have, though I suspect it will take some time to trace it." He frowned. "I would need to get close to its Carrier. And I cannot think of a good enough reason to observe Yusraa."

"What if you suggest that you need to make sure Aragorn didn't do any damage?" Faramir suggested.

"We have healers to do that" I said sharply.

"Only the best for a Queen" Faramir said lightly. "Flattery will get you everywhere."

"It might work" Gandalf said slowly. "Though I suspect she will have her own set of defenses, if she is indeed a sorceress."

"I'll go talk to them" Faramir said hastily. "You can meet us in the Healing Houses."

"Where is Legolas?" I demanded.

"We moved him to his chambers to recover" Gandalf answered. "There is a double guard at his door" he assured me as I gave him a horrified look. "And Gimli is sitting with him."

"I want to go see him" I said roughly.

The soldiers guarding me exchanged nervous looks. "I'm not going to do anything foolish. I...just need to look at him."

"Let him go" Gandalf said gruffly. "While you're busy with him, I'll see if I can find anything."

Not ones to disobey orders from Mithrandir, the guard hastened to release me. I stood; rubbing my hands together to fend off a sudden chill. With a brief nod to Faramir, I left, taking a back way up to the seventh tier. No one stopped me on my way up, which was somewhat a relief. I wanted to go over the events of the evening to see if there was anything I missed. Unfortunately, the only thing I could recall was the feeling of my beloved dying in my arms. It drove all logical thought from my head. Hastening my steps, I flew past the sixth tier and paid no mind to the nodding fronds of flowers in the Garden. Just the thought of them being devoid of Legolas' care was enough to make my throat tight and my chest heavy.

The guards nodded to me as I approached Legolas rooms, and drew their spears aside to allow me entrance. The room was dim, and the air thick and gravid. The curtains near the bed had been drawn, obscuring my view. There was a rustling, and Gimli came forward with his axe raised but quickly lowered it when he saw that it was me. His eyes were moist, but I didn't attempt to comfort him, I knew it would only wound his pride. Parting the velvet hangings, I was presented with the view of my lover lying among the sheets. Legolas was very still, though if I looked closely I could see his chest rise and fall with labored breaths. The blue tinge that had encompassed his skin had been replaced with its usual pearlescent sheen. Someone had bothered to change him from his robes into a soft white tunic. Long fingers lay against the sheets like open lotus petals, and I grasped them gently. His eyes fluttered but he did not wake. A cloth stained in patchy blooms of red lay on the bedside table.

"He still bleeds a little" came Gimli's rough whisper. "It's getting less, but Gandalf said he doesn't know how much damage has been done." His voice wavered slightly and I reached out to clasp his shoulder. We sat in a long silence before he deigned to speak again. "I know you knew the risks of all this, but I hope you realize-" he took a great shuddering breath. "-I hope..." he trailed off and appeared to choke on his words.

"I know" I whispered. "And so does he." I rubbed gently against the soft crease of Legolas' finger and thumb. "Has Thranduil been here?"

"Aye" Gimli replied. "He's in a right state, poor fellow." He chuckled. "Never thought I'd say that of an elf. I let him sit by himself for a while, he left shortly after. Seemed to need some time to sort himself out."

"Did Gandalf say if he would wake soon?" I queried.

"I don't think we're quite there yet, laddie" Gimli replied. "Legolas isn't out of the woods yet, I think we should just be glad that he's alive."

"Of course" I murmured.

After a time, I asked Gimli to be by myself for a while and he acquiesced graciously. Left alone with my silent companion, I was victim to my own grievous thoughts and feelings. With trembling hands I told Legolas that I was sorry, that I would never have agreed to marry him if I knew that this was to be the result. I felt that I had been a terrible fool to ignore everyone's warnings. If these were the consequences of my amorous pursuits, I didn't deserve to have any in the first place. None of this would be happening if I'd just married Arwen like I was supposed to. In my miserable rumination, I failed to notice that the door to Legolas' rooms had opened once again. By the time I was paying any sort of attention, Thranduil had come to sit beside me. His face was a terrible mask of grief and resignation. Brushing my hand aside, he reached to take up Legolas' limp fingers. I let him because he deserved the privilege. He was a father and a King.

"I'm sorry" I said helplessly.

Thranduil was silent, his dark gaze focused on the serene visage of his son.

"When Legolas was little" he said quietly. "He was terribly afraid of the dark. For a long time, after his Nanny put him in bed, he would come into my room and sleep on the floor. I think he thought that if he didn't come into my bed he wouldn't be caught, but I always knew he was there." A regal smile graced his magnificent features. "I thought it was needless, to be so afraid of nothing. Children are wont to be afraid of silly things, and I told him so." He leaned forward to stroke Legolas' hair. "When you're a parent, you forget that the world can see so large to little eyes. Then, when your children are grown up and gone, you realize how much you need them." He sighed and sat back. "Sometimes, I look at Legolas and see the little elfling who begged me not to leave him alone in the dark. I shrugged off his fears and let him deal with them on his own. Maybe it made him stronger, but there are times that I wish I had been kinder." He looked calmly at me, and I envied the serenity in his gaze. "Now, my son is alone in the dark, and I cannot hold his hand to bring him out of it. He must do it on his own, like he has so many times before."

"I feel as if I have failed him" I said brokenly.

"Do you love him?" Thranduil asked quietly.

"Of course. With every breath in my body."

"Then you have not betrayed him, Estel. Legolas knew what might happen if he took you, he won't hold anything against you. And you should not think that backing out now will save him. He is utterly in love with you, and he needs you."

Legolas stirred suddenly, arching slightly as he coughed; a thin line of crimson appearing at the edge of his mouth. I felt tears in my eyes as Thranduil gently hushed him and took the cloth to clean it away. Suddenly, I knew what Legolas had felt when he had thought me dead. It was a lonely, desolate feeling that resonated within my soul. I felt desperately guilty for brushing it off as something silly and elvish. I was sure now that if Legolas died, I would not be able to go on. The world would be an ugly, intolerable place without him. After a time, Thranduil seemed to fall into a restless slumber; his head falling to the mattress next to his son. I left them, trusting that I could rely on the King to watch over my love, perhaps better than I could. I wanted to find out if Gandalf had managed an audience with the Czar's wife. More than anything, I wanted everything to be over with, to be sure that we were safe once more.

As I entered the Healing Tier, a great noise assaulted my ears. Confusedly, I watched as a great assembly of people fled from the entrance to the Recovery quarters. Their faces were wrought with fear and trepidation. A great light emanated from within, and I drew my sword. Pushing pass the fleeing throng, I entered with a sense of dread. The air around me was heavy, and seemed to be pulsing with a sinister virility. It seemed as if the shadows crawled and took shape around me, morphing the walls into grotesque phantoms before disappearing once more. Making my way towards the source of the light, I steeled my mind; aware that I was entering into an uncanny situation. My heart danced in my chest as I pushed open the door to one of the private rooms. What met my eyes was a spectacle I shall never forget, no matter how long I live.

Gandalf was holding aloft his staff, which blazed fiercely in the small space. He was shouting indiscernible words, and the air around him seemed to ripple, as if under water. A low drone seemed to emanate from every corner, and it lodged itself into my very bones, leaving them weightless and trembling. Before him was Yusraa, but it was not Yusraa. Gone were the veils and flowing fabrics from earlier, replaced by a ragged mantle of black that seemed to shift around her like whorls of cloying smoke. Her once-green eyes were an empty, windowless white; much like the light from Gandalf's staff but burning with a terrible Evil. Her presence seemed to invade the room, enveloping it in an insidious presence. I was suddenly sure she was trying to kill Gandalf, and I leapt forward with my sword held high, bent upon helping my friend. A great blast from the old wizard knocked me back, throwing me into the wall and forcing all the air from my lungs.

"Stay back!" Gandalf shouted. "This is beyond you."

A terrible shriek, reminiscent of the Nazgul filled the air. A tendril of slithering darkness reached forward, wrapping itself around my friend. He gave a great shout and the light from his staff grew brighter. The shadow-tendril retreated, wrapping itself back into its mistress and Yusraa gave a growling snarl. The foundations shuddered and I watched as a chunk of ceiling fell. It narrowly missed me and shattered the stained-glass window to my right. To my surprise, none of the early morning light spilled through; a great curtain of blackness seemed to have fallen between us and the outside world. The humming intensified until the very room seemed to shake; and the light from Gandalf's staff appeared to recede for a moment. There was a low hissing sound and a dark green blade appeared in Yusraa's hand, shimmering with an ethereal light. She swung it in a great arc and a void was left in its path; yawning into an immense abyss. Gandalf shouted once more, and it seemed as if he had won, for the darkness was pushed back until it was nothing more than a small patch of space. Yusraa gave a great howl, and curled as if in agony. Then, with a great roar of sound, she appeared to withdraw into herself, whirling and turning into a pinpoint of blackness. With a faint popping sound she was gone and Gandalf stumbled, nearly falling over his staff in the absence of battle. He cursed and turned to look at me, a grim expression on his face.

"Is she dead?" I demanded.

"No" Gandalf said hoarsely, looking more weary than I had ever seen him. "She exhausted her power but she is not dead."

"So she will return?" I asked, my heart sinking.

"I have reduced her to near-nothingness" he said weakly, sitting down on a pile of rubble. "But that does not mean she won't return." He took a deep breath. "She is not a sorcerer, but a Necromancer. I should have seen it before. She deals in the ways of the Dead, and earns her allies by striking fear in their hearts." He snorted. "Na'mar is no more a ruler of his Kingdom than a fly is to paper. Yusraa rules Harad, and uses him as her shield." He stood with a grunt. "I think you'll find that Na'mar has stolen away in your absence. With your attack on his wife, he has good reason to invade Gondor if he so chooses, but I do not think it will come to that."

"Why would a man like Na'mar ally with someone like Yusraa?" I murmured as we walked out of the ruined Recovery wing.

"Because Yusraa is smart, as I suspect he is not. I do not know where she was trained. In fact, I don't know where she possibly could have come from, but I plan to do some research. Sauron was taught by Melkor, but it has been long since he walked Arda. I can only think that she is very old, perhaps thousands of years old, and has only wakened in the wake of Sauron's downfall."

"Is she as powerful as Sauron?"

"No" he said scornfully. "She is but a shadow of Sauron. As I said, I will spend some time in Gondor's library and see what I can find."

"But what quarrel does she have with Legolas?"

"I can only say that perhaps Legolas holds the key to something that might hurt her greatly in the future. He is certainly a threat, as she wouldn't have tried to dispose of him so obviously if he wasn't."

We parted ways at the entrance to the sixth tier. I was shaken by what I had learned. There was obviously more at stake than I had thought. This wasn't about Legolas and I marrying, but something deeper and far greater. I wondered what could possibly hold such interest for a Necromancer. Gondor held a great amount of precious artifacts, but none of them were tied to Legolas in any way. From what I knew, my love had no formidable powers of his own save his own elven abilities. If someone really had wanted to hurt the Kingdom of the elves, they would have targeted Thranduil as well, and he was as healthy as a horse. I desperately disliked not being able to tie things together, and knew it would bother me until I did. I had encountered the truth, only to find that I knew less of it than when I had started.

Faramir caught me just as I was passing under the tower of Ecthelion. He was accompanied by two servants, one of which held a scarlet-stained sheet in his hands. All of them bowed but I waved it away, fear crawling its way into my throat once more. Thranduil was a step behind my Steward, looking pale and drawn.

"Gandalf asked for some time to see to Legolas on his own" he said shortly. "He's getting worse again."

Feeling as if my feet had been pulled out from under me, I slumped against the wall and lifted a trembling hand to cover my eyes. It seemed that whenever I thought things couldn't get any worse, they did. Without a word, I brushed past the group, ignoring their calls for me to turn back. I took the stairs two at a time, suddenly feeling that if I wasn't brave enough to face what lay before me, I wouldn't be able to face anything at all. The guards at Legolas' door refused me entrance at first, but when I threatened to have them all hanged they seemed to relent. The door was unlocked, which surprised me, but I didn't think on it. Instead, I pushed forward into the darkened room with a feeling of resignation. Gandalf gave me a sharp look when I entered but did not protest. He was standing over Legolas, his staff glowing dimly in the faint light. Sunlight-colored hair was spread against the pillow, and his breaths seemed more labored than before. A faint sheen of sweat covered his body and he shuddered, despite his heavy coverings. Moving without thought, I knelt next to the bed opposite Gandalf and grasped Legolas' hand.

_"Ai, meleth-nin"_ I murmured. _"Av'osto, ollo vae, amin mela lle."_

A great gasping sound gave me pause, and I looked up into eyes of the deepest blue. Legolas shuddered and smiled weakly, his hand moving shakily against mine.

"Aragorn" he wheezed. _"Oio naa elealla alasse'."_

"I'm so scared" I whispered.

Soft fingers, far too kind for their own good, stroked my cheek and then fell to the coverlet.

_"Tenna' tul're"_ he garbled.

His eyes closed wearily, and I was left to meet Gandalf's pitying gaze.

"You are both fools" he growled. "But to Valinor who stands in your way, I won't allow it."

For the first time in what seemed like forever, I smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **General Translations:**
> 
> lithui dath-Ancient Void
> 
> Ai meleth-nin-Oh my love
> 
> Av'osto, ollo vae, amin mela lle-Don't worry, dream well, I love you."
> 
> Oio naa elealla alasse'-Ever is thy sight a joy
> 
> "Tenna' tul're"-Until tomorrow


	31. Behold Your King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Aragorn is crowned King of Gondor, and Legolas his consort._

Adjusting my doublet, I waited for Faramir to hand me my vambraces. We were standing in the first circle, preparing for the coronation that was to come. Privately, I thought it was a lot of fuss. I'd been veritably ruling Gondor since my return, and I didn't think that making it 'official' would change anything about the way I was ruling. I would wear a crown, but I didn't intend to drag it about atop my head every single day. Yes, it was a an honor, many men would have killed to be in my place. But at the same time it was a duty, and I didn't think it necessary to make a great fanfare of something that had been done for hundreds of years. Somewhere, locked deep in the recesses of my mind, there was a ranger that wanted none of it. I'd never vied for recognition and fame. Still, as had been pointed out to me many times before, it was my heritage. I could no more avoid it than the rise and set of the sun.

Legolas had taken a long time to recover. Indeed, he was only today out of his bed, and I didn't like the idea of forcing him into a very public ceremony so soon after he was on his feet. However, he had insisted he was fine, and he didn't like the idea of delaying the celebrations any more than was necessary. We had come to a deeper understanding of each other during his time while infirm. It wasn't so much that we'd discovered anything new; it was the simple things that had come to light while I sat by his side. I learned that he was especially fond of lemongrass tea, with just a little bit of honey. I brought it to him when he was sorting through papers, longing to be outside with the sun and the sky. Moreover, he was partial to music, and we laughed over my pathetic attempts to pluck out some sorry tunes on an old lyre Eowyn had found for us. It was so much about time and touch, and the simplistic serenity of companionship that made me surer than ever that I loved him beyond any doubt.

The Hobbits came to visit him during the evening, and spent long hours spinning him merry tales from their childhoods. Merry and Pippin were very good at duets, and Legolas was always left chuckling after they had come to see him. Frodo was more sparing with his presence, but his was a quiet companionship and I sensed it was healing for both of them. They spent a long time discussing Bag End, and I supposed that both had somewhat a fondness for family ownership and tradition. Sam went on and on about Rosie Cotton, and I suspected that Legolas was rather tired of it, but he was immeasurably gracious in his encouragement. Neither of us had any concept of Hobbit courtship, but Sam seemed to have it all planned out and it was heartwarming to see that there was still young love after such harsh times.

Thranduil spent a great amount of time with his son, with and without me. I sensed that they had developed a deeper understanding of each other, and it made me both happy and regretful, for I doubted I would ever have such an opportunity with Elrond. I wondered if he had sailed or chosen to remain in order to see that the affairs of Rivendell were in order. It was strange, to think of my childhood home deprived of so many of its inhabitants. I imagined that the halls seemed echoing and empty; devoid of the laughter and magic of the elves. I hadn't heard from Elladan or Elrohir in a long time, and I wondered if they now bore the same grudge against me as my father. I was sorry to have left my family affairs in such a state, but I'd had no choice but to be honest.

We had heard and seen nothing of Yusraa nor her husband since her clash with Gandalf. Their steeds were gone from the stable by the time the Guard had run down to check, and though we sent out scouts we were not able to place their trail. Gandalf guessed that they had had an escape plan premeditated, and that there was little we could do in the face of their schemes. If they came back, we would be ready to face them, but we could not pursue them into Harad. Gondor's reach was not great enough to influence the people of the sands, and they would not be kind if we were to press upon their borders. So we were left to fortify our magical defenses and try to live as well as we could with a shadow of doubt still hanging over us. Yusraa had played her hand, we knew she was a threat, but we could not act if we didn't know where to start. No good could come from chasing phantoms.

"We're done here" Faramir said lightly, cutting into my thoughts.

Pulled from my musings, I observed myself in the mirror for a brief moment. At once, I saw both myself and the line of noble lineage behind me. The eyes that stared back at me were both tired and wise, and I hoped that I would be able to live up to my title. There were many who had stood in my place and failed to honor their vows to the city. I was both exhilarated and unnerved; at once happy yet hesitant. Faramir stood behind me, a patient and understanding expression on his face. I felt comforted that he should be with me, he was more accustomed to the ways of Gondor than I was. The coronation was to be held on the fields of Pelennor, and the wedding under the White Tower. Both would be short, simple affairs, as I had requested. Already, a great crowd had assembled beyond the Gate, and I could hear the rumbles of conversation from where I stood. After a time, Faramir reminded me that we weren't to spend the whole day holed up in a dressing room, and we made our way out onto the streets. '

The city was mostly empty, save for a few attendants hurrying to find their places in the crowd. Great white streamers had been hung on what seemed like every building. They fluttered gently in a kind breeze, borne aloft by the soft breath of the spring wind. It was a warm day, but not uncomfortably so. The streets had been strewn with white rose petals several inches thick; they were mixed with the forest greens of athelas, which gave forth a tempered fragrance as my cape brushed over them. Faramir walked beside me carrying the crown, and I occasionally eyed it misgivingly. As we approached the front gate, I scanned the crowd for Legolas but soon gave up, it was far too vast for me to find him. He would most likely have tried to make himself scarce, as he was not to be present for this part of the day. A single blast from a trumpet announced the beginning of the ceremony, and the crowd fell silent. Standing just before the gate, I stopped and allowed Faramir to move past me.

"Let it be known to all that the King has Returned!" he shouted.

With appreciable grace he turned and bowed to me, offering the crown. I took it and held it aloft; where the jewel in its center shone brilliantly in the sunlight.

""Out of the Great Sea to Middle-earth I am come. In this place will I abide, and my heirs, unto the ending of the world."" *

Gandalf, who had been standing to my right, came forward to take the crown from my hands. With a brief wink and a bushy smile he lifted it and put it on my head. It was incredibly heavy, and I wondered if I would be able to keep it on for the rest of the day.

""Behold the King!""* Faramir shouted, and the crowd gave a great cheer.

Amid a great fanfare, I turned and made my way back through the Gates, the crowd following in my wake. They soon overtook me and a great many of them threw wildflowers and tokens. An attendant followed behind to gather them up, as they would be given to the poor. It was a long procession, winding through the great corridors of the city with enormous pomp and circumstance. I'd never heard my name called so many times at once, it overwhelmed me. I waved, as was proper, and occasionally stopped to lay a hand on a child. I sincerely hoped that what was to follow would be met with the same amount of fervor and adoration. It made me feel singular and alone, and I'd have rather shared it with Legolas than borne it by myself.

The seventh tier was awash with white flowers. Garlands of carefully arranged lilies lined the Tower of Echthelion; giving off a magnificent fragrance. Here too there was a carpet of rose petals that stretched from the citadel to the great, prow-like tip. An alter had been built upon the platform around the White Tree. It comprised of four ivory arches connecting to each other on each side of the stage; they were strung with the customary white ribbon along with small silver bells engraved with the symbol of the White Tree. When the wind touched them they sang softly, filling the air with their ethereal tones.

Thranduil stood on the far end of the rostrum, holding a long red ribbon in his hands. He was resplendent in a deep green robe, his crown about his head and his sword at his waist. I held back a gasp as I saw who stood on the opposite end of the stage. Elrond favored me with a wan smile, tilting his head as he observed my surprise. He wore a silvery grey robe, with a small circlet about his head. Never one for extravagance, his garb was unadorned but at the same time majestic. In his hand was a wooden cup, filled to the brim with what looked like water. I made my way up to stand next to him, offering him a questioning look.

"A father does not forget his son" he said calmly. "No matter what may come between them, the paths of the heart lead our kin to the same waters."

I inclined my head, a lump in my throat, to acknowledge his words. At that moment, a trumpet rang next to the entrance of the Tower and I paused, turning to face the source of the sound as the throng of spectators grew silent once more. Thranduil's delegation of elves came first. Dressed in their battle attire, they were a magnificent sight; marching forward in unison as their armor threw forth the rays of the sun. They filed out on either side of the podium in masterful rows of six. Frodo and Sam brought up the tail of the procession, each of them holding a tiny silver circlet in their cupped hands. They ascended the stairs to the platform and separated, Frodo coming to stand beside Elrond, and Sam beside Thranduil. My breath caught as Legolas came into view. He wore an outfit similar to mine, but he wore no armor. Instead, the silver and black of his clothes were the soft make and fit of his hunting garb. He wore the bow and quiver Galadriel had given him over his shoulder, and his elven daggers were at his waist. His hair was not braided, as was custom in times of peace and celebration. Though still a little pale, he walked with the confidence and grace of his people, and I had never been prouder of him. Gimli escorted him up onto the stage to stand before me, and we turned to face each other. Elrond stepped forward, his grave and impassive gaze sweeping the crowd.

"Today we celebrate the joining of two spirits" he began. "Under the sky, before the sun, behind the stars, and over the sea." He handed me the wooden cup and bade me drink. I did so, and passed it to Legolas who copied the gesture. _"Aa' menealle nauva calen ar' malta._ The soul is clear and the heart knows the way" he continued, taking back the cup. "Love conquers all."

He retreated to make room for Thranduil, who offered us a serene smile before drawing forth the red ribbon. Legolas beamed at the sight of it and held out his hands. Carefully, so as not to appear rushed, the King of the Woodland realm twined the swatch of fabric about our fingers, joining them together in soft waves of crimson.

"May you never have grief you cannot bear" he said gently. _"Aa lasser en lle coia orn n' omenta gurtha._ Despite the Darkness, there is always Light. May you be bound in the arms of Joy and Laughter." The ribbon shimmered and began to glow, encompassing us in a gentle, sparkling light. As we watched the bindings slowly faded, leaving only the tracings of its direction on our skin before disappearing completely. "It is done" Thranduil continued. "Let it be known to the world."

Frodo came forward and handed one of the rings to Elrond, who in turn gave it over to me. Lifting Legolas' hand, I slid it over his smallest finger, drawing him forward until his hand was pressed against my heart.

"Hold this for me" I said softly. "So I may live with the song of your soul."

Legolas in turn received the ring from his father and echoed what I had done.

"Have me" he replied, his eyes dancing with joy. "So I may live in the light of your love."

Gently, I laced Legolas' fingers through mine and pressed my lips against his.

The cheers started slowly. First a low drone, and then an all-encompassing roar. We were drowned in flowers, they fell from the turrets above to land at our feet. Legolas looked as if he might weep, so relieved was he by the welcome he had received. People pressed forward to grasp at our hands, calling both of our names as someone pulled the Tower bells. Elrond was slipping forward to merge with the crowd, but I caught his eye and he smiled as if to say that we would talk later. With my arm around Legolas waist, I raised my hand to the people of Gondor. My love laughed and in that moment I felt as if all of Arda rejoiced with us. We had succeeded, nothing could stand in our way. I drew Legolas in for another kiss, and the sky reeled in a torrent of celebration and joy; surely, there was nothing better than this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **URGENT NOTE FOR READERS:** This is the last chapter where things stay T-rated. I like to call this a 'Drop-Off Checkpoint.' Meaning, if you are not interested in the more 'M'-rated side of things. This is where your story ends. 
> 
> **_*_** double quoted phrases are taken directly from the book. they are not mine.
> 
> **General Translations:**
> 
> Aa' menealle nauva calen ar' malta-May your ways be green and golden
> 
> Aa lasser en lle coia orn n' omenta gurtha-May the leaves of your life never turn brown


	32. Le Nna Vanima

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Our two newly weds enjoy their first night in the same bed._

"Tell me, what are your plans for Minas Tirith now that you have a permanent place here?"

I smiled tightly over my glass of wine, feeling as if I'd been deflecting the same questions for hours. After the ceremony, what seemed like half the city had piled into the Hall of Isildur. Situated in the fourth circle, it was an enormous space with plenty of room. But with nearly six-hundred residents and guests squashed into it I might it might as well have been a larder. Everyone was shoulder to shoulder, and those lucky enough to have found seats were loathe to get up and surrender them to the next hapless soul that came by. I was talking to an ancient Councilman whose name I'd forgotten almost as soon as I'd heard it. Indeed, many of the elders in Gondor seemed Valinor-bent on dissecting my motives as consort before I'd even had the chance to bed my husband. I'd been plied with more drinks than I could count, and though they didn't make my tongue any looser, my head was spinning and the garb I was wearing felt unbearably hot and heavy. More than anything, I felt ready to sink into a hot bath and pretend that I wasn't suddenly so incredibly fascinating to every politically-focused individual within a ten foot radius.

I'd caught sight of Aragorn several times and tried to catch his eye, but he was similarly swamped. Gloin had almost immediately ushered the new King into a heated debate with the dwarven delegation and he hadn't surfaced since. Many of the dwarves had a great interest in expanding their mining operations to the East, and they had no problem overshadowing our wedding to make their purposes clearer. Normally, Faramir would deal with such affairs, but when the opportunity presented itself, it was always better to talk to a King. I'd seen neither hide nor hair of my father since the ceremony, and I suspected he had wisely made his way back to his chambers to give us his formal congratulations at a later time. Indeed, it seemed that most of the elven delegation had departed from the party as swiftly as they were able. It didn't particularly offend me, but I wished I had some of my kin to pull me away from otherwise unsavory affairs.

The old Councilman was still bouncing his ideas off me as my mind wandered. I rather thought that I could have been a brick wall and he'd still tell me his opinions. Re-gathering myself, I smiled and nodded when it was appropriate, and hoped that he would tire himself out at some point. To my sincere horror, another elderly man appeared out of the crowd and began to argue with my unfortunate companion. Both seemed to be in disagreement about taxes, and I buried myself in my glass as their voices started to rise above the hum of the crowd. Just as I was sure they were about to come to blows, a friendly tap on my shoulder came to my rescue. Merry raised his eyebrow at my current state of affairs and gestured for me to lean down so he could whisper in my ear.

"It looks like you'll be needin' a distraction" he said sagely.

"I'd be forever grateful for you if you did it" I hissed back.

"Let me get Pip."

I watched as he disappeared into the crowd, and hoped desperately that he would be quick with whatever he was planning. My quarreling companions had disappeared-possibly to spar with their walking sticks-and I could see a member of the Monetary Circuit eyeing me with a hungry look in his eyes. Just as I was sure he had decided to come and speak to me, there was a great commotion from the tables. I watch in amusement as Merry and Pippin scrambled up onto the great wooden surface; kicking aside tankards and plates in their haste. As the attention of the crowd turned to them, they broke into a bawdy song that had the dwarves roaring with laughter and the nobles cringing and edging towards the door. I watched the spectacle for a few moments, enjoying the chaos, before I began my search for Aragorn. He seemed to have given the dwarves the slip, and was nowhere near the dining area. He was not amidst the massive group of attending Rangers and he'd not deigned to conceal himself in the ranks of soldiers that made up about a third of the attendees. Just when I was sure he'd left the party without me, a pair of arms snaked around my waist and drew me into an alcove obscured from the view of the rest of the room. Smiling, I chuckled as soft lips traced the curve of my neck before I was spun around to face stormy grey eyes that looked just as harried as I was.

"I was just thinking we ought to announce our departure" he murmured. "Before the dwarves decide I've got to sign their missive for the White Mountains right here."

"Never mind the dwarves" I muttered. "I think the elders want me to make a speech regarding the Vaults and how they have a mandatory right to fifteen percent of the tax."

He laughed and cupped my cheek.

"I thought today was supposed to be about us" he mused.

"My father once told me _'if you're every going to get married, don't invite the city. They don't care that you're going to spend the rest of your life in maritial bliss; they just want to know how it will benefit them_ '"

"Sire?"Faramir peeked around the space in the alcove, his face contrite. "The Countess wants to speak with you."

"Absolutely not" Aragorn snapped, squashing me to his side in a fashion reminiscent of a pillow. "Legolas and I are retiring, it's nearly midnight."

"You still haven't met the delegation from the East" the Steward pressed.

"Is this our wedding or not? I'm going to bed, with my husband. I don't suppose I have to detail to you what happens after that." Faramir flushed and shook his head. "Good. Now if you'd be so kind as to announce our departure, we'll go out through the back."

"You'd think you wanted to ravish me under the eves of the White Tree" I remarked as we stepped out into the night.

Aragorn smirked.

"It's a nice thought, but I'm not partial to public displays. Did you enjoy yourself a little bit, at least?"

"It's nice to know that some of the public is partial to my presence" I replied as we entered the fifth tier. Stopping to adjust my doublet, I continued. "Besides, I couldn't be miserable on the day of my own wedding."

"I should be very concerned if you were" Aragorn replied, putting his arm around my waist.

We were comfortably silent for the rest of our ascent. Privately, I was a little nervous. I knew what was expected of married couples, but I wasn't sure how to go about it. The niceties of the bedroom were something that had escaped me my entire life, and I suddenly wished that I had at least read something regarding the process before jumping in head first. My father wasn't one to discuss the pleasures of the flesh. When I was young I'd asked him, and he'd said that it was better if I found out on my own. I wished fiercely that I had more married friends to confide in. Gimli was all well and good, but his idea of romance was to throw down the gauntlet and do things wherever and whenever. Elven courtship encouraged nothing of the sort, and I wondered if it was truly wise to keep oneself so ignorant of such things.

The guard was absent in front of Aragorn's rooms, and my feelings of trepidation grew as we passed through the great oaken doors. I'd never been in Aragorn's rooms before, as there'd never been any need to visit them, and I felt it improper. They were much like mine; separated into three circular parts associated with working, sleeping and bathing. The furnishings were mahogany, draped with rich red fabrics that I almost dared not touch. Candles had been lit in every room except for the study, and though they seemed to have been burning long no wax dripped onto the floor beneath them. I guessed that Gandalf had had a hand in decorating the room; along with the candles there was a soft, shimmering trail of light undulating over the bed. The bath was set into the floor and had been drawn, there was a scattering of red lotus over the surface. A fire in the hearth cast a warm atmosphere over the entire space. It soothed my nerves somewhat, though not entirely.

I took a deep breath and methodically began to rid myself of my clothes. My tunic went first, and though I was significantly cooler without it, I wasn't uncomfortable. A slow warmth pooled in my belly as Aragorn watched me make gradual but steady work with the rest of my garments, his eyes half-lidded. It was patient work, but I soon stood completely completely undressed before him, and his gaze swept hungrily over my body. Without speaking, I moved toward him, reaching up to trace the grooves of his crown before taking it off him and setting it to the side. I made a gradual task of drawing the layers of armor away from him, letting parts of my bare skin brush against him as I worked. Each time his breath would catch, and he would bite his lip in a way that was both endearing and arousing. By the time I was finished, we were both trembling with desire, but I forced myself to turn from him and make a slow but steady path into the bath.

The water was pleasantly warm, and gave way to the intrusion of my body effortlessly. It was shallow, only knee-high, and I knelt down to allow my head under the surface, relishing the soft weightlessness for a moment before coming up for air. Aragorn had come to sit by the edge, one knee drawn up as he watched me, an unreadable expression on his face. I smiled invitingly, and he slipped into the water, moving forward until we were but inches from one another. His hands on my waist sent a gentle shock through me; a warm, bubbling thrill rising from the core of my being to burst against the surface of my mind. Slowly, he brought himself forward, our noses brushing, lips barely touching as our breath ghosted across the space between us. It occurred to me that _this_ was making love. The soft, hesitant touches, the circling courtship of our bodies, and the intimate closeness of each heart before the other.

I couldn't help the soft whimper that escaped me as Aragorn's lips closed over mine. We had kissed before, but not like this. His mouth whispered effervescent promises as it was joined to me; the soft touch of his tongue speaking of more to come. His fingers curled through the damp gather of hair at my back, and his other hand moved to bring us flush against each other. Groaning, I broke the kiss to tilt my head to the side, where his mouth continued down to worship the flesh of my neck. I grasped at his shoulders, my legs feeling suddenly useless beneath me at the masterful magic of his embrace. The water from the bath lapped gently at our sides, allowing for a salacious fluidity between us. His lips moved to trace nonsensical trails down to my nipples, where they teased me into submission before moving lower. Aragorn slowly knelt as his mouth found the dip of my bellybutton, swirling 'round once, twice, and continuing on. Here he paused, as if unsure whether to continue or not. I bit my lip and moaned encouragingly, my fingers threading through the dark fall of his hair.

Aragorn smiled and dipped his head, swallowing my aching need in one quick movement. I felt myself stiffen; my mind going blank as every nerve was suddenly hyper-focused on what had happened to my body. Vaguely, I heard myself plead for more, strong hands coming up to steady my hips as I was pulled into a wet, warm oblivion. Aragorn closed his eyes as he worked me gently, his mouth doing wicked, impossible things to every synapse in my incoherent mind. Never had I known such a wanton pleasure; it enveloped me and stole the breath from my body. My love's mouth was a pinpoint in my tunneled horizon of vision, curling in on itself and pushing out deep, thrumming coils of pleasure.

It was over all too soon. Aragorn withdrew from me and tugged me to him, our combined needs brushing together momentarily as he pulled me up from the bath and handed me a towel. Mechanically, trembling with suppressed desire, I toweled myself dry. Each stroke of the rough fabric sent jolts across my sensitized skin. When he couldn't wait anymore, Aragorn ripped the cloth from me and plunged his tongue into my mouth, walking me backwards towards the bed. I whimpered and fell back onto the velveteen coverlet, bucking upwards as he moved to cover me, our bodies twining in a sensual dance. Long fingers coiled under my legs, drawing my knees upwards and to the side as hot lips pressed against my neck. I groaned and clutched at the strong planes of his back.

"A-Aragorn" I gasped. "I need-I _need_ -"

"Shhh" he murmured. "I know."

Disentangling himself he reached towards the bedside table and dipped his fingers in a bowl of oil that was warming over a brazier. He gestured for me to turn over, and I obeyed, pressing my cheek into the soft fabric of the pillows. Skillful, patient fingers massaged the temperate liquid into my shoulders and I sighed, feeling the roiling need of the atmosphere lessen into a a low, patient simmer that slowly spread through my veins. The nervousness I had initially felt was gone, replaced only by a wanton anticipation as he gently worked my body into a thrumming pool of boneless relaxation. He skimmed down the planes of my back, pausing to rub the oil into my hips before descending lower, paying special attention to my thighs, feet, and calves. Eventually, he bade me turn once more and I hummed softly as his fingers slid over my nipples; the oil leaving my flesh pliant and shimmering in the low light. When he had once again made his way down to my groin, Aragorn hesitated, as if unsure how to continue. Stormy eyes met mine in a soft, tender supplication and I lifted my hips in assent, watching with heavy eyes as he continued to explore. My breath hitched as his fingers crept underneath the straining apex of my need, following the soft line of my perenium to the cleft below. Gently, he teased me, brushing tenderly before allowing one finger to explore. I closed my eyes and gave myself over to his touch.

He was so gentle, I do not know how much time passed as he prepared me; only that I experienced so little discomfort that the small, fearful assumptions of pain that had gathered in my mind disappeared completely. There was one finger, then two, then three; and I had begun to move against his touch, hearing myself garble nonsensicle words into the silence around us. Digits brushed against that hidden, wondrous bundle of nerves inside me and I cried out; grinding myself into his touch. He made a soft sound of appreciation and I reached down to grasp his wrist.

"Now" I whispered, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. "Have me now."

He exhaled shakily and withdrew, reaching for the oil once more as he positioned himself over me. I breathed out slowly as he entered me, letting the initial pain of entry meld into my memory as my head fell back into the pillows. Aragorn moaned softly, flexing his hips with careful precision. The air around us seemed to leave us hanging, suspended, oblivious to the world around us. We were joined, made one and made whole. The gasps coming from the back of my throat seemed distant and far away, as if in another place all together. Letting my head loll to the side, I lifted myself up onto my elbows.

"Move" I slurred, taking myself in hand and reaching up to grasp his shoulder.

He began slowly, and it seemed the world spun out from under me. Each thrust of his hips was another slow spiral into oblivion. He kept his gaze on my face, searching for any sign of discomfort, but I had none. Every inch of him was made known within me, and I burned with desirous passion. Each snap of his hips was a spasm of tight, controlled pleasure that had me crying out by the end of it. I rose to meet him, our mouths touching but not kissing as he increased his pace, his breath coming in short bursts through his nose as he fought to keep us in the moment. I myself felt that I could not last, as his member brushed repeatedly against that sweet spot deep inside me, sending throbs of unrestrained pleasure to the very core of my being. Everything about this was new to both of us. It was unrestrained, virgin, and primal. I wailed as he pulled back and moved forward with devastating precision; my back arching as my toes curled and my eyes crossed.

"C-can't" he huffed. "L-legolas, I-"

A wash of white enveloped my vision and I heard myself cry out. My hips bucked frantically and his lips sought mine as he thrust once-twice-then stiffened, ripping his mouth from mine to bury it in the crook of my neck as his fingers tugged at my hair. I clutched desperately at his back, as if grounding myself in the reality of his virile flesh would keep me from tumbling over the edge.

We lay there for a while afterwards, breathing heavily, our eyes closed. Aragorn's fingers traced small circles on my hips, occasionally leaving half-moons with the tips of his nails. Eventually, he slid away and I groaned as the remnants of his release trickled down the inside of my thigh.

_"Amin mela lle"_ I murmured, stretching slowly.

"You are beautiful" he replied, lifting my head and capture my lips once more.

I whimpered and felt myself stir hungrily against him. He chuckled and his fingers gripped my thighs.

Many times, we made love that night. 'Twas glorious, all-consuming and unforgettable. Only when the sun rose did we finally fall asleep amongst the sheets. Whispering endearments to one another, we succumbed to the exhausted darkness that hovered at the edges of our consciousness. As if recognizing the final close of a night spent in passion and love, the candles extinguished as one and the fire burnt low. Bathed in the warmth of joy and pleasurable exhaustion, we fell into the realm of dreams and left the care and worries of the city for tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title Translation:**  
>  Lle naa vanima-You are beautiful


	33. Poikaer, Heru en amin, Aratoamin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Legolas dives into his first day as head of the Agricultural Division and learns a little more about Yusraa._

I was almost positively certain I was numb from the waist down.

Grumbling slightly, I shifted my torso against the stiff sheets, feeling a sudden inglorious urgency to bathe. Beside me, Aragorn muttered in his sleep and slung an arm over my side, pulling me close as he wandered obliviously in dreamland. My stomach growled thunderously and I glared accusingly at it until my digestive complaints quieted down. Squirming with slightly more purpose, I managed to get one arm out from under the sheets, the other remaining steadfastly and unresponsively pinned to my side. The sun was poking tentative rays in through the window and I wondered muzzily if this time I'd get to see it in person. Stretching, I relished the wonderfully used feeling that permeated my body to the very core. I'd always assumed Aragorn would lose stamina before I did, but I was yet again surprised by my lover.

For three days, we'd done nothing but become accustomed to every reachable inch of each other, stopping only briefly for food and rest, until last night I'd finally fallen unconscious in the final throes of passion. I smiled to myself and let my fingers run along the tanned skin of my husband, tracing the underside of his arm before ascending to rub the inside of his palm. Aragorn stirred and I chuckled as sleepy lips began to suckle lazy paths against the crook of my neck. I hummed and let it continue for a while, letting my eyes drift shut as I reveled in the sensation. Soon however, my need for proper sanitation overrode my petulant need for morning love-making.

_"Meleth-nin_ , I want a bath" I murmured.

"Bide a moment" he garbled, his palm running down my chest to press flat against my belly. "Want you."

"I know" I sighed, turning over to face him. "But we can't, Aragorn, we've been gone long enough- _mmphf._ "

Hot, talented lips sealed themselves over mine and I resisted only for a minute before succumbing to his needy ministrations. We were a mess of tangled limbs and moans within minutes and both of us barely heard the knock on the door that interrupted the beginnings of another day in bed.

"Ignore it" Aragorn muttered, his fingers doing terrible, wicked, wonderful things to my nerves.

"C-can't, we can't- _oh!_ Right _there!"_

The knocking came again, louder this time, and a voice followed after.

"By Fili's Flying Ferret!It's been three days!" came Gimli's voice. "Faramir's sent me up here to put an end to the celebrating!" There was a fumbling at the latch, which was quickly given up. "Now, if I have to break the door and clove your bed in half with my axe, I'll do it! The delegations want a word with both of you, and they've been practically eating your poor Steward alive!" Aragorn groaned and rolled off me, coming to a halt at the edge of the bed. I lay still for a moment, catching my breath. "If you two don't get up this very second-"

"-We're up!" Aragorn snapped, pulling his robe on, and stomping to the door. I caught a glimpse of our dwarven friend's bushy beard as he opened it. "Give us some time to bathe and eat."

"An hour" Gimli rumbled threateningly. "Be ready in an hour, or you'd best bet I'll be back with my axe!"

Chuckling dryly, I rolled to pull the tassel next to the bed, and listened as a bell chimed softly. Within minutes, an attendant had come in to fill the bath. We took turns, as washing together would surely lead to activities that Gimli had strictly forbade. Aragorn grumbled through the whole process, but with a little prodding from me, was eventually dried and dressed. Someone had bothered to bring all my belongings to the Royal Chambers before the wedding, and I was glad to pick out a robe of my own. After I'd made a presentable semblance of myself, I cleaned my teeth and sat down and began to brush my hair. Nimble fingers plucked the comb from my grasp and I smiled as Aragorn began to drag the object through my damp locks.

"Feeling helpful?" I queried, arching my neck to give him better access.

"Mmm, somewhat" he agreed distractedly. "Mostly, I'm stalling."

"Heaven forbid we go out in public. We can't make love forever."

"I'm King" he said stubbornly. "If I wanted to, I could."

"But you won't" I murmured, turning and taking the comb from his grasp. I rose and pressed a firm kiss to his lips. "Come, before Gimli breaks our doors."

The guard at our door was blessedly silent, and offered only the barest of greetings before returning to their taciturn silence. Taking my arm, Aragorn led me down to pass under the Tower with a dignified grace. Gimli was standing near the White Tree looking impatient. We exchanged perfunctory pleasantries, but the dwarf didn't seem in the mood to chit-chat. As we entered the Healing Tier, I slipped Aragorn a piece of lembas from the square I had in my pocket. He grimaced, but took it. Both of us somewhat anticipated a very grueling day. The sun had just begun to peek over the horizon, yet we were already out and wandering the streets. I hated to think what kind of work had piled up in our absence, but we couldn't avoid it forever.

Almost as soon as we had reached the Council Hall, Aragorn was whisked away by Faramir with only a frantic, apologetic glance in my direction. I was left feeling momentarily useless, before Gandalf took my arm and led me away to meet with my father. I hadn't seen him since the day of the wedding, and I found myself looking forward to it. We came together in the Gardens, overlooking a section of Gondor that still needed repair. A table and chairs had been set up, and a massive pile of scrolls was upon them. My father was leaning over one such parchment, his brow furrowed in concentration. He smiled at me as I approached, and produced a small, brightly wrapped package.

"I wanted to give you this at the wedding, but I thought it might be better to wait until things had died down for a bit."

Sitting next to him, I accepted the parcel and carefully unwrapped it. My breath caught as I drew out what was inside. There were two, identical ropes of fine silver chain, attached to which were three crystalline figurines. One was in the shape of the sun, the other a crest of a wave, and the third in the "V" of a flying bird.

"Adar" I said quietly. "I can't take these...these were yours...yours and.."

"Mine and your mother's" he said quietly. "And you can take them; you must. They've been in our family for generations, they're meant to be passed down." He smiled wryly. "Now, hurry and tell me what they mean, or I'm afraid I will have to take them back."

_"Anor"_ I murmured, touching the sun-charm. _"Anor_ for the brightness that falls upon our lips, and lights the way ahead. _Iorn_ , for the ever-changing laughter of the spring and the vitality in our hearts. Menel, for the souls that pass over, and the eternity of the spirit." I let the symbols pool in my palm. _"Anor, Iorn, Menel_ ; we do not forget the reason we live, or the reason we die."

"Good" my father sighed. "Keep them well, and when the time comes, pass them on."

"During your time away" Gandalf grumbled. "Your father and I took our time to visit the library and look into Harad's past for clues as to where Yusraa could have come from."

I tucked the charms away, my interest piqued.

"And did you find anything?" I asked, pulling the closest piece of parchment towards me. I paused, surprised. "Where did you find a map of Beleriand?"

"Deep in the vaults" Thranduil replied, delicately taking the map from me. He folded his hands and appeared to collect his thoughts. "You know, of course, the tale of Ungoliant."

_"Ungweliante"_ I said in affirmation. "Yes."

"Then you'll also know that after her fall at the hands of Melkor's Balrogs, she fled to Ered Gorgoroth, and sired many children in a great darkness."

"So the legends say."

"Frodo met one of her children, Shelob. Who had no great magic of her own, but possessed a ravenous appetite akin to her mother" Gandalf said gravely. "However, we believe there is more to Ungoliant's story than meets the eye. Ledgend has it that while Melkor eventually saw his folly in allying with a creature such as her, he was within her grasps long enough to sire children. These children made a slow trek Southwards, along the Bay of Balar and Umbar. Many were found out and slain along the way, but it is thought that a few survived."

"And Yusraa is one of those children?" I asked, horrified.

"It is possible" Thranduil said slowly. "That when Ungoliant and Melkor's children saw the dire straits of their lineage they went into hiding. Much like a bear falls into hibernation, they fell into a deep sleep. When Sauron was destroyed, the aftershocks of his demise were strong and spread far. Far enough to wake one of them from their slumber."

"If Yusraa is one of Ungoliant's brood, why does she not assume the form of a spider?" I asked curiously.

"I'm sure she can" Gandalf said grimly. "In fact, I am sure she has many forms which she can shift to and from at will." He rose and began to pace. "I do not know if Melkor stayed with Ungoliant long enough to teach his children anything, but if he did, she will be a force to be reckoned with. She may be among us now, and we would never know it."

"But what does she want with me?" I pressed. "Obviously, she wants me dead. But to what end?"

"We do not know, _Ionneg"_ Thranduil said calmly. "But you must know that these are only speculations, not solid fact."

"You both seem fairly sure of it" I said pointedly.

The two men exchanged purposeful glances.

"Be that as it may, it is not our intention for you to uproot your life and go into hiding" Gandalf said sternly.

"I wouldn't do that in any case" I said bitterly. "What good would it do me?" I sighed and slumped in my chair. "Aragorn and I are going to Ithilien in a few weeks. It's my duty to be out and about among the people."

"Nobody knows what happened to Ungoliant" Gandalf said gruffly. "Some say she still lives, deep in the south. Yet more say that her all-consuming hunger led her to consume herself. If Yusraa takes anything from her mother, she will be as hungry to devour all things bright and beautiful as her sires." He smiled crookedly. "It's not a comfort, but it goes without saying that her greed will eventually force her hand, and we should be ready for it."

I was silent, and Thranduil pushed a stack of scrolls to me, which I took with a feeling of apprehension.

"Since you've already shown prowess in managing agricultural affairs, Faramir thought you might like to have a hand in the fall Harvest." He plucked a heavy tomb from his lap. "This details the output of different fiefdoms and their farmers. I suggest you have a look at it in the days to come." He waved a hand over my massive pile of paperwork. "You need to approve each planting before it has begun, and you must do it soon." He shifted through another pile to his left. "There's also the matter of trade in Gondor. You have a great number of merchants coming in from the West at this time of year. Each caravan carries goods that hold significance to all parts of the city."

"I'm going to need an army to sort through all of this!" I exclaimed in horror.

"That's another matter we must discuss" Gandalf replied, and I looked at him incredulously. "You'll need help, and you must select people you trust in order to manage."

"You'll help me, won't you Adar?" I pressed.

Thranduil smiled wistfully.

"Ah! To be young and filled with panic when confronted with paperwork! Ionneg, I confess I have neglected the affairs of Mirkwood far too long, and I'll be heading back mid-week. However, I have drawn up a list of people who are interested in working with you."

"When do I start the interviews?"

"Tomorrow. Don't look so terrified, they're not going to eat you alive."

"Why can't I refer to Aragorn's Council?"

Thranduil looked tired.

"Aragorn's Council is not formed, much like yours. And you can't use his advisors because they are his. He will need them as much as you need yours." He frowned. "You do want to help run this Kingdom, don't you?"

"Of course I do!" I protested. "I just wasn't expecting so much to be thrown upon me at once."

"That's three days of accumulated work" Gandalf said, pushing my pile of papers around idly. "I think you'll find going through it now will be better than letting it gather size for a few days."

"I think you're both having a laugh at me" I grumbled.

"Oh, we are" Thranduil said lightly. "Just not for the reasons you're most likely imagining."

We conversed for a while after that. I was sorry to hear that my father had to leave, but he had his own Kingdom to attend to, and I had mine. Gandalf didn't give any indication that he was leaving any time soon, though I had a sense that he would. The Hobbits were itching to get back to the Shire, and I couldn't blame them. The old wizard would more than likely deign to go with them, to ensure their safety. I almost wished I could go as well, but I knew it wasn't possible. I determined that someday, I would visit each member of the Fellowship. Two of us would remain in Gondor, but the rest had their own respective homes to go to. Even Gimli couldn't stay forever. Gloin was anxious to start their new mining operation, and he'd chosen his son to head the development. Most of the emissaries from the North-East had gone home, having exhausted their patience for a King and consort who would not come out of the bedroom. The air of celebration that had cozily enveloped Minas Tirith was slowly evaporating into one of hard work and obligation.

When I had shifted all the paperwork I'd received into some semblance of order, it was past lunch. My father had gone back to the library and Gandalf was off having a word with the Hobbits. I hadn't seen Aragorn since we'd been separated that morning, and I thought it best if I left him to his own devices. I called an attendant to send my mountainous 'homework' to my study, and the offending scrollwork was soon out of my sight. Chewing thoughtfully on a tomato I'd snagged from the gardens, I made my way back up to the seventh circle to sort through my personal items in the royal suite. As I was moseying across the courtyard, a lone figure by the White Tree gave me pause. Elrond nodded to me as I approached, and I bowed in response, coming to stand beside him. He was dressed in his usual simplistic garb, his brow furrowed in thought.

"I was hoping to catch you at some point. I wanted to thank you" I said softly. "You made Aragorn the happiest man in the world. When he saw you at the ceremony, I think he might have wept were it any other time."

Elrond smiled wanly.

"Begging your pardon, but I think you make Estel the happiest man in the world."

I flushed.

"I...wish that I could tell you I didn't want any of this to happen" I muttered. "But I don't regret any of it."

"Nor should you" he replied, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I was hard on Aragorn, but only because I consider him my own, and I love him. Arwen is my daughter, and I never wanted to see her hurt."

"Is she alright?" I queried tentatively.

Elrond smiled, a brittleness in his features.

"She...took it as well as could be expected. I had to tell her the truth you know. Better that she heard it from me, than from one of the couriers. She has sailed, she went almost immediately after I told her. I can only hope she finds some form of solace in the Undying Lands."

"Will you sail?"

Elrond let his hand drop and turned away from me.

"Every day the call of the sea grows stronger. My people are leaving, elves are becoming a scarcity in this new age." He turned back and smiled. "Like Thranduil, I hope to stay long enough to meet my grandchildren."

"I don't know how soon that will happen" I said softly.

"I can wait" he said calmly. "For now, you can focus on building your rule together. I only wish the best for you."

"Thank you."

"I've heard of what happened to you" the old elf continued. "With the Necromancer, Yusraa."

"It's certainly given us all a lot to think about" I said dryly. "It's not every day the spawn of a Dark Maiar decides that you ought to be dead."

"I'm afraid I don't have much to offer on the subject. It bewilders me as much as it does you. I can only hope that she loses interest or plays her hand in a way that exposes her weaknesses. Ungoliant was thought to be the Impersonation of Darkness itself. She was a terrible monster, with horrifying power. One can only hope that Yusraa's weakness is that of any other blackness; Light and Goodness."

"If light and goodness were the sole conqueror of all darkness I'd think Sauron would have seen his demise much sooner" I replied pointedly.

"You know what I mean" Elrond said tiredly. "That which manifests itself as a great and terrible maleficence is often destroyed by the smallest acts of sacrificial benevolence."

"I hate to think what sacrifice will be demanded this time" I said bitterly. "It seems we have given all of ourselves to the vanquishing of Sauron only to be turned upon by another insidious presence."

"Good and Evil will forever circle one another" Aragon's foster father replied. "Like birds in the act of courtship, they balance the scales with neither too much of one or the other. Illuvatar teaches us to take each moment of piece with a grain of watchfulness, for Darkness shall dwell at the door of every idle heart."

"Is it really so much to ask for peace?"

"If you and Aragorn could weather your love through the toils and trials of the Fellowship, then you can pull it through the woes of whatever comes to your threshold. You may be tired, but you are still in love." He smiled crookedly. "Can you really ask for more than that?"

I chuckled.

"No, I suppose I can't."

"Good" he said firmly. "Because if you expect kindness from a world broken by decades of virulent evil, you shall be sorely disappointed. Peace takes time and patience, it does not happen overnight."

He left then, and I continued on to our rooms. I spent the afternoon sorting through my things. My bow and arrow I hung next to Anduril, above the desk in the study. I had a smattering of journals that my father had brought as a wedding gift from when I was younger. I was looking forward to sharing them with Aragorn, and I left them out on the bedside table. We'd gotten a mountain of gifts at the wedding, but I wanted to go through them as a couple, so they were stored away in closet. The bed had been made, and someone had been around to tidy during our absence. It took me a few hours, but by the time dusk fell I was nearly finished. I poured myself a glass of wine and put myself to the task of studying the agricultural output for the different fiefdoms. It was dull work, and I only managed a quarter of the tomb before I found myself nodding.

It was dark outside, and I still hadn't heard or seen anything of Aragorn. Resigning myself to a night of solidarity, I washed briefly before tucking myself into bed. It felt large and lonely, laying there by myself. I wondered if every day was going to be like this; with hours of tiresome work followed by nights of sleeping alone in an empty bed. The thought sobered me somewhat, and I was all the more grateful for the three days of togetherness we had had. Just as I had nearly gotten myself to sleep, the bed dipped and a pair of warm arms pulled me back into an equally temperate body. Soft lips closed over mine and I found myself immediately wide awake.

"I missed you" I murmured, when we had surfaced to breathe.

Aragorn smiled and stroked my cheek.

"And I you."

"Did you finish everything you had to do?"

"Gods no" he groaned. "You wouldn't believe the amount of paperwork on my desk."

"If it looks anything like mine I know how you feel" I said dryly.

A hand curled over my hip and he nuzzled the soft skin under my chin.

"Later" he murmured. "For now, let me love you."

I was all too happy to acquiesce, and put my worries about paperwork to the side in favor of better things. Down in the stables, a dark-haired woman with brilliant green eyes had come to look for employment in the city. She asked only for room and board, and an opportunity to hone her skills among the kitchen staff. All of this was unbeknownst to us, lost as we were in the wonder of each other as newlyweds often are. So Gondor slept in its ignorance, and we spent yet another night in throes of passion; while a spider spun its web under darkened skies. And the spawn of Ungoliant made its lair in the heart of our home, wrapped in a cocoon of infinite lies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title Translation:**  
>  Poikaer, Heru en amin, Aratoamin-My love, my lord, my champion
> 
> **General Translations:**  
>  Anor-Sun
> 
> Iorn-Water
> 
> Menel-Sky


	34. Ama Handasse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Legolas makes a new and strange acquaintance, another tragedy befalls Minas Tirith._

"I'm sorry, but I cannot approve your claim if you can't balance out your crop to land ratio."

I winced as a bag of gold was slammed down in front of me. The farmer before me was fuming from the tips of his ears to his toes. If it wasn't for the guard, I was sure he would have leapt over the table and clobbered me with something. I'd have had to have subdued him, of course, but I was hoping it wouldn't come to that. He was the wide, large-hatted, red-faced sort and I'd disliked him the moment he'd walked into my office. However, my position dictated I couldn't be nasty to laborers unless they were unseemingly objectionable. For now, I was stuck looking contrite and apologetic while he looked like he'd have liked to have ripped my teeth out. It wasn't personal, I simply couldn't provide the seeds for crops he didn't have land for. I knew what was happening; farmers who stockpiled seed had more opportunity to grow in the years to come without charge. They could also sell their extra wares to other farmers. Gondor couldn't support veins of revenue that didn't flow directly into the city treasury. I wasn't cutting off the farmers for my own amusement, I was doing it for the economy.

"D'you see that there bag 'o gold?" my seething companion demanded.

"I certainly do" I replied, pushing the offending item back to its owner.

"That be the bulk of me earnings from yesteryear. Im needin' that extra seed to support my wife n youngins."

"Your spending reports indicate that you had enough to refurnish your entire house last year" I said wearily. "Forgive me, but that seems like an extraneous privilege."

"Not like you'd know 'bout privilege" he growled.

"The Royal Suite hasn't been refurnished in two hundred years" I snapped. "How's that for efficiency?"

"Now, you listen here you little-"

"-No, you listen. I'm invested in making Gondor's economy successful, and I cannot do that by giving you things you do not need at the expense of the city. Maybe the Steward before me did such a thing, but I do not. If you wish to file a formal complaint, draw up a specified document highlighting your concerns, have it notarized by the court of the People, and bring it before the High Council of King Elessar." I stood and he drew back, looking somewhat apprehensive. "I recommend you gather signatures from other farmers who support your claims, and when you have received your summons to court, make sure you bring them with you." I handed him a sheet of parchment. "This is your seed order, taking into account your land and your history of productivity. We are done here. Have a good day."

Skirting around the circumference of my adversary, I left the office. Aragorn had arranged for me and my council members to have a floor of the Council Hall to ourselves. There were six of us, including myself, and the space provided exactly that number of studies. It had taken me a few days to solidify everything, including the interviews. Many of the applicants were qualified, but not serious and I didn't appreciate it. In the end, I'd selected four men and two women, all of whom had extensively monitored Gondor's agricultural and monetary gains in the years past. None of them were particularly young, but I had no interest in educating youth. Gondor needed a stable Council of experienced rank. Everything about it was hard work, and mostly paper-oriented. After such a long time on the road with the Fellowship, it was almost like living in an entirely different world, but I enjoyed it. In the evening, I was able to congratulate myself on a another day well-manage, and I'd already received high praise from the Elders for increasing Gondor's productivity. I was proud of what I did, even if it didn't involve slaying orcs and putting arrows through trolls.

Making my way up to the Gardens, I was startled to find myself accosted by a hail of parchment that seemed to descend from the upward ramparts. Watching idly as the piles of paper settled around me, I listened curiously to the furtive cursing that accompanied the accident. An elf with long black hair was near the epicenter of the catastrophe. He wore an outrageously yellow robe with purple ribbing, and his arms were heavily spangled. His features reminded me fiercely of Glorfindel; being cat-like, aquiline, and aeonian. I was sure he was not of my father's company. Indeed, I had never seen him before in my life, and I wondered how his clearly ostentatious presence had escaped my notice. Nevertheless, I stepped forward to aid him, despite my initial shock at his appearance.

_"Mae Govannen,_ friend. You seem to have your hands overfull."

An expression of irritation passed over his features. I had the distinct impression he disliked being caught in the obvious. Soon, however, he appeared to compose himself.

_"Aaye, Leglas"_ he said cheerfully. I paused, momentarily stymied by his accent. It was steadfastly Laiquendi, which was uncommonly rare, and I had not heard it in many a year. The elves of Beleriand were not prone to wander. _"Saesa omentien lle."_

"You're far from home" I said cautiously.

"I am" he agreed happily, looking at me. He had deep, prismatic eyes whose color I could not quite place; and yet they seemed vaguely familiar. "But I wished to give my respects to the King and his Consort." He bowed. "My name is Rilien."

"We've not met" I pressed, kneeling to help him with his papers.

"No, and I suppose we never should have" he sighed, waving an errant hand. "My Adar wouldn't like it if he knew I'd been talking to you. He says we shouldn't involve ourselves more than necessary." He eyed me curiously. "You're very pretty."

"Who is your father?" I queried, ignoring his second comment.

"Veryan Caunwaithon" he said airily. "And don't pretend you're not flattered." I was momentarily flabbergasted. "Oh, I've shocked you" he said happily. "Don't take it too badly, I do it to everyone."

"I beg your pardon" I snapped. "But this is the most ridiculous conversation I've had all day."

"And I'm sure you've had a lot of them" he returned, having finally sorted out his stack of parchment. "I'm very interested in joining your Council."

"And you think simultaneously flirting with me and putting on airs will just land you a seat?" I scoffed. "I'm sorry, but I still don't know who you are."

"It doesn't matter" he trilled, beginning to walk away. "I'm very useful, I think you'll find. But if you'll excuse me for now, Faramir wants these documents."

With my bad mood greatly bolstered, I continued on to the Healing Tier with a feeling of consternation. I made a note to talk to Faramir about his choice in attendants. Obviously, he thought anyone could do it. It struck me odd that an elven visitor from Beleriand could insert himself so swiftly into our everyday lives. Gimli passed me outside of the recovery halls, but didn't stop to chat. Gloin had demanded much of his attention of late, and we sufficed with a hurried wave before going onward to our separate tasks.

My father had left the evening before. I already missed him fiercely. I'd spent so much of my life under his wing and it was strange to acknowledge that I no longer was privy to his rule. The day of my succession was coming, there was no denying that. But for now, I was free. Still, I would miss the simplicity of my youthful duties, much as we long for the sanctities of childhood. I didn't regret any of the decisions that had brought me to where I was, but it was still bittersweet to move forward. In some way, it was a relief to know that I could still rely on my father to manage the Greenwood. I was sure that Aragorn and I wouldn't be able to manage two realms at once, not at that given time in any case.

"It's strange to find you idle" came a warm voice.

Shaken out of my thoughts, I favored Aragorn with a smile. We were standing in front of the Gardening shed; I having come there to start an afternoon of mint-picking and strawberry-minding. Aragorn looked harried, but not awfully tired. His eyes made a study of my face, and I felt myself warm under his gaze.

"You've caught me in combat with my mind, I'm afraid" I confessed.

"Oh?" he queried, moving forward to steal a kiss. "Do you need help?" He smirked. "Reinforcements, perhaps?"

"If only it were that easy" I murmured against his lips. "Who is this Rilien?"

Aragorn frowned and pulled back.

"Actually, I was going to ask you" he replied. "I ran into him in Faramir's office." He pulled a face. "He's terribly strange."

"Did he make passes at you too?"

"No" my love replied, his face darkening. "Are you trying to tell me he flirted with you?"

"Rather terribly" I said dryly. "And don't take offense to it, I think if he flirts with everyone that way, we should feel rather sorry for him."

"Faramir seems convinced he has potential" the dark-haired man replied. "I've never even heard of his father. As far as I know, Beleriand's been drowned for eons. Where did he come from?"

"Somewhere unfortunate" I mused. "What are we going to do with him?"

"He's an elf" Aragorn said slowly.

"Yes, how observant of you."

"His actions suggest he's spent much of his life in a way reminiscent of the elves near the Shire" my love continued, ignoring my rudeness. "He is more fey than anything. As long as he keeps busy, I don't see a reason for him not to stay."

"I could see him becoming annoying" I said stubbornly.

"You don't have to be his keeper" Aragorn said gently. "Just…let Faramir keep him about."

"He's not joining my Council."

Aragorn gave me a strange look.

"Why would he do that?"

"He insinuated that he'd like to be a member" I grumbled. "I just wanted to make it clear that I won't allow it."

"I acknowledge your reticence" Aragorn chuckled. I sighed and turned to open the door to the gardening shed, but I was pulled back once more. Warm lips closed over mine and I shivered as the King of Men pulled me flush against him. "I have some time before my Council adjourns" he murmured, his fingers sliding between the buttons in my robes to touch my bare skin. "They're having a private meeting, most likely to complain about me. What say we take this to the bedroom?"

"I say-" I gasped between kisses. "I say- _oh!_ -if you keep this up you're going to have me gravid before we've been married a month."

"Would that be such a bad thing?"

"No?" I whimpered, as his teeth found the sensitive tips of my ears. "Yes? Oh, I don't know Aragorn! That's an awful question to ask me at a time like this."

A faint warmth on my thigh-near Aragorn's pocket-gave me pause. He drew back and I watched in confusion as he drew what looked like a flat metal disk out of his pocket. It was about the size of his palm and inlaid with different color stones. At that current time, a red one on the outer edge was glowing brightly. He cursed and looked at me apologetically.

"That's Faramir" he checked the disk again. "And it's urgent, I've got to go."

"Wait, wait just a minute" I protested, snatching the disk from his hand. "What is this?"

"Well, I haven't got as far as giving it a name yet" Aragorn said thoughtfully, scratching his head. "But I created the design and Gandalf charmed it." He took it back and pointed. "See the engravings? It pertains to each branch of government I oversee. When someone within it needs me, that particular stone glows. The hotter, the more urgent the message." He palmed the token. "It's a simple thing, really."

"It's very clever" I murmured. "You'll show me more, tonight?"

"Of course" he agreed. "I'm sorry to leave you."

"It's probably for the best" I said wryly. "I didn't like where the conversation was going."

"Liar."

I chuckled and turned back to the shed as he walked away. Truthfully, I dreaded the inevitable moment when I would find out I was with child. The whole processes was unnatural and utterly terrifying. I wanted children, I just wanted to skip the year-long gestation period that was common among my kind. I would have been perfectly pleased if a stork delivered a happy, bouncing baby into my arms that very night if it meant I didn't have to give birth. I shuddered and pushed the thought to the far reaches of my mind. Grabbing a pair of shears and a bucket, I determined to make the rest of my afternoon as worry-free as possible. Unfortunately, it seemed the Universe had other plans.

One of my Council members dragged me back to the office come late afternoon. I listened to sixteen heads of sixteen fiefdoms detail the productivity of each of their fourteen farms, and the trade reports came in directly afterwards, preventing me from catching even a breath of fresh air. Subsequently, I was shouted at by two elderly Treasurers for being off the net-cost of a large shipment of grain by one percent. Near dinnertime, while I was seriously considering firing everyone, Rilien came in with yet another stack of precarious looking paperwork.

"Absolutely not!" I protested. "I refuse!"

The raven-haired elf raised a brow and set down his cargo, folding his arms.

"Are you sure you won't give me a chance?" he asked curiously.

"I don't know you" I said wearily. I waved helplessly at the stack of papers. "What are these?"

"The labor missives" he said matter-of-factly.

"I already covered that" I replied, standing and shuffling around until I found the correct mountain of scroll work. "Here. I signed eighty of these this morning."

"These have to do with the farm-hands, and paid labor" Rilien replied, spreading one of the papers out on my desk. "You have to acknowledge the amount each farmer pays out to his employees and include the deductible in his pay from the city."

"In other words, I've got to spend the night counting small sums" I sighed, sitting back down.

"There's an easier way" Rilien replied, coming to stand beside me. "If you look at all these, most farmers hire two farm-hands at the most, and one at the least. Each hand gets maybe five gold pieces a week for their trouble. A farmer earns twenty gold pieces a week, roughly. They give ten, and keep ten. So the city must pay ten. If you pay all the farmers twenty and ten, it saves you having to figure everything out."

"It's…not accurate" I said slowly.

"It's estimating" Rilien replied. "Every good treasurer knows how, and the Treasury in Minas Tirith can support it, especially when the harvest comes in." Ignoring my grumble of protest, he reached over and pulled another scroll off the top of one of my paper mountains. "If you want to make up for it, add a couple pence extra to something the people of Gondor pay for in large quantities, like grain or flour."

"It seems dishonest" I said slowly.

"It's tax" he replied shortly. "If you don't find compromises you'll be dead from stress by next year, and then what good will you do your people?"

"I'd say 'thank you' but I feel like you have an ulterior motive" I said dryly.

"Only if you'll have me" Rilien said smoothly, suddenly uncomfortably close.

"Oh, go away" I griped. "I don't know what you want, but I don't have the time to figure it out."

"I'm at odds with all eccentricities" he said dramatically, flinging an arm over his brow. "You should pity me."

"I do pity you" I said wearily. "You must be dreadfully bored if you feel like you need to act out like this." I frowned. "You can't be younger than me, not with an accent like yours."

"Astute" he purred. "You're very right, but I am far younger in spirit."

"I'll take that as a compliment. Now please, get out."

"Your wish is my command" he said cheerfully, bowing himself out.

Shaking my head at no one in particular, I bent my head over the stack of missives. I was well into the first quarter of it when a note came from Aragorn saying he wouldn't be returning to the Seventh Tier tonight. With the knowledge that an empty bed awaited me in the Tower of Ecthelion, I resolutely decided on staying up the entirety of the night. As an elf, I didn't require as much rest, but I enjoyed it when I was able to share it with my husband. Nevertheless, I wiled the hours away with repetitive but dutiful work. Rilien occasionally glided in to offer me tea and make me discomfited; privately, I didn't mind the company. He was salacious, intrusive, and immature, but oddly accommodating in ways that others were not. He had a courtier's flair, and was uncommonly perceptive. Grudgingly, I realized I could see why Faramir kept him about. Still, something about him made me nervous, though I couldn't say what. He shared little of himself, despite his incessant hovering and pervasive presence. I sensed that he was more interested in learning about me, though his reasoning escaped my judgement. I determined to be careful around him, no matter how charming or persuasive he might be. As the sun came up over the walls of Minas Tirith, I felt tired, but I'd finished all my paperwork. Standing, I exited the office and went down the two floors that separated me from my husband. As I passed the Consulting Hall, I noticed a faint red glow coming from the enclosed space. My curiosity piqued, I followed the light to its source.

The smell of blood hit me first. It was overpowering; forcing its way into my senses and blotting out every other sensation that attempted to make its way to the surface. I counted sixteen dead, all guardsmen. Someone had strung them up by their feet to hang them like bats. Their throats had be carefully slit, but it looked as if someone had taken great care to cover every solid surface with their blood before stringing them up. Their faces were contorted in masks of absolute terror; mouths twisted and eyes bulging. I covered my mouth as my gaze turned to the Fount of Justice; a symbolic decorative fixture at the center of the room. Bubbles of hemoglobin red ran from the tipping scales, down into the collecting trough and up into the system again. I swallowed and forced myself to step forward. Someone had taken a great amount of care and time to arrange this. It was meant as a message, not a mindless act of savagery.

There was a gasp from behind me and I turned to look gravely at Gandalf. It wasn't often that I saw the old wizard stymied. Now, his face was pale, and the hand that gripped his staff was white at the knuckles. He stepped forward, the edges of his cloak turning crimson as it dragged upon the scarlet-soaked floor.

"What" he said slowly. "In Illuvatar's name happened here?"


	35. In Crimson Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Aragorn manages the aftermath of Yusraa's ill deeds, and he and Elrond finally have a heart-to-heart conversation._

I cleaned up the blood myself.

There was no argument, we were all sure it was the work of Yusraa. No one could have worked with that much gore for a long amount of time without getting caught. Gandalf had found heavy magical markers in the room; the ropes that suspended the guards hadn't been lifted by hand, and the blood on the ceiling and walls was too perfectly spread. It was work that was painstaking, meticulous and to the point. The message within was unerringly clear; we were not safe. It didn't matter if we posted two guards or twenty, Yusraa could get past them all. The whole affair brought our everyday lives to a grinding halt. Legolas was forced to continue his everyday tasks with a constant guard plus Gandalf. It irritated him to no end, but I couldn't think of any other way to keep him safe. My hand had been forced; I had no other avenues of option to peruse. I myself couldn't keep watch over my husband, as much as I wanted to look over his shoulder for the rest of eternity, Gondor needed me. I was reduced to chewing my nails over endless missives while praying the door wouldn't open with news that Legolas had been assassinated.

The city itself demanded recompense. Sixteen soldiers had lost their lives under my watch. Twelve of them had wives and children, and no one was feeling forgiving. They blamed me, and I didn't hold it against them. If a King can't keep his subjects safe within his own walls, what good is he? I was to attend all the funerals, and offer indemnity to each family left bereft. Each service would be held on different dates, in different parts of the city, and I was also expected to finish my work during that time as well. On top of that, I was determined to catch Yusraa, which seemed a fruitless and desperate venture in any case. I didn't know what guise she was in, for I was sure she wouldn't dare enter the city as herself, and I didn't know if she would continue the guise up until she played her hand, or switch to another.

_"Meleth-nin"_ came the smooth voice.

I was on my hands and knees in the Consulting Hall, with congealed red grime stuck under every fingernail. I couldn't really say why I'd insisted on cleaning it up myself. I felt a terrible sense of guilt over the whole affair. I felt I had shirked my duties as a lover, a King, and a protector. It was far from pleasant, each drop of blood reminded me of the lives that had been lost. If I'd been more careful, maybe I could have prevented it. I was haunted by the faces of fatherless children, looking up at me as I told their mothers that their husbands wouldn't come home. It was like the war all over again, but somehow it was more personal. Still, it brought me some small measure of comfort, to slave on my hands and knees at the end of the day in the name of the dead.

"Come to bed."

The soft supplication gave me pause, and I sat up to look at my love. He was dressed in a simple, dark blue robe that accentuated his eyes. His hair hung loose about him, and his mouth was pressed thin in an expression of concern. He stood just outside the light of the torches, and their faint glow set off an ethereal sheen to his pearlescent skin. Dragging a red-ridden hand across my brow I sighed and cast my gaze back to my work; I was nearly done. Really, I had only a fifth of the room to go, and it was mostly floor-work. Still, it was indescribably personal, to see the surfaces of such a revered room desecrated. I could barely stand the thought of leaving it to stand when I was nearly done. Still, I owed Legolas some of my time, and I didn't like to think that I'd been neglecting him.

Standing, I dropped the brush I'd been using to clean the floors into a bucket standing by a brazier. Moving forward, I took Legolas' proffered arm wordlessly, and let him lead me out of the room. I felt a twinge of irritation when I realized he must have dismissed the guards, but didn't press him for it. The Council Halls were mostly empty, save for the few late-working advisors. We passed through the network of offices unnoticed, and stepped out into the street. The moon was high, and the buildings cast soft shadows on the flagstones below us in its nacreous light. Candles glittered softly in multiple windows, and there was a tempered sense of peace for which I was incomprehensibly grateful. A soft breeze brought down the scents of lavender and thyme from the Gardens in the tier above us; swirling in with the wind before ebbing away. Neither of us talked as we made our way up to the Tower, but there wasn't really any need to. Legolas' presence was comfort enough, from the soft press of his arm against mine to the gentle whispering hush of his steps. I didn't feel the need to press him for conversation, and it seemed that he felt the same.

A bath had been drawn in our rooms, and I gratefully peeled off my grimy clothes to slip into it. The water was hot, and I let a shiver of pleasure run through me before beginning the rigorous task of making myself clean again. Legolas joined me a few minutes later, and took the sponge I was using out of my hand. Lathering it in soap, he made a gentle, steady task of cleaning my back and I basked happily in the glorious attention. Each swipe was a balm to my weary soul, dredging up the aching tiredness I felt within me to cast it aside.

"I've been thinking" Legolas said quietly, turning me 'round to wash my front. "Maybe we should go to Emyn Arnen now, and let Faramir deal with the other funerals."

"Why do you say that?" I murmured, tilting my head so he could wash the crook of my neck.

"Maybe the people will feel better if we were to take some time away" he replied, his lashes lowering.

"They might think it cowardice."

"We'll say it's a honeymoon" he said, smiling gently at me. "We haven't had one, and perhaps if Yusraa feels the need to be drawn away from Gondor, she will be less likely to strike."

"Emyn Arnen needs to be reopened" I agreed. "I'd originally intended to give it to Faramir, but he wants to stay here, in Minas Tirith."

"Faramir has grown up here" Legolas said, moving to lather the sponge again. "He wouldn't give it up for a fiefdom, I could have told you that."

"I figured I'd ask" I replied. "If anyone deserves it, he does." Catching Legolas' arm, I gently drew the sponge away from him and set it down on the edge of the bath. He smiled and let his long-fingered hands rest on my shoulders as I drew him close. "So what is it?" I murmured, pressing my forehead against his. "You want to go away and let me love you from sun up 'till sun down?"

"That's a way to put it" he purred, letting his lithe body slide against mine. "But really, I was thinking we could make a business of opening it up, it would be a good move for trade."

"My precious love" I murmured. "Always looking out for the benefits of our country."

"Only for you" he replied, capturing my lips. "But I think some time away will do us good." He brushed an idle hand over my shoulders. "It's been some time since the Spring Festival, and we said we were going to go eventually. That time may as well be now."

I let my hand slip under the water, snaking between us to stoke the slow, languorous pleasure that had begun to build in the air. Legolas gave a soft moan, his mouth moving forward to seek mine. I'd lost count of how many times we'd made love. I never grew tired of it, and Legolas' body was a soft, ivory wonder that I felt I could peruse into eternity. Each gasp and whimper was a music to my ears, and the clutch of his fingers a wondrous embrace to which I often hoped there would be no end. I loved watching his eyes go wide with wonder in the final throes of passion; relished the writhe and twist of his body as it spent itself. I'd always been told that the pleasures of the flesh fade with time, but I couldn't see how that was possible. I felt as if I should never get tired of making love to Legolas.  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

We began forming the arrangements for our departure the next day. My father, who had not yet departed for Rivendell, also elected to go with us, and though I was uncomfortable with it, Gandalf agreed that it would be best if he stayed behind. During our time away, it was decided that he would take the Hobbits back to the Shire. Faramir didn't protest, only reminded us that we would have to take our work with us, and that our hours wouldn't all be spent in relaxation and discovery.

"I'm going to ask that you take Rilien with you" he said firmly.

We were sitting in his office, going over the specifics of the journey. I frowned, confused.

"Why? Isn't he your assistant?"

"Rilien has played parts in aiding all branches of government" my Steward replied. "He's incredibly skilled, and he'll be a good help when it comes to reopening Emyn Arnen." He cast a glance at Legolas. "He works well with you in particular, and you'll need someone to keep you company while Aragorn is busy."

"I don't need a Lady's Maid" Legolas scoffed.

"Consider him a Gentleman of the Bedchamber" Faramir said calmly. "With the added skills of politician and adviser." He gave my love a stern look when he started to protest. "Rilien could prove dangerous should you not choose to bring him into the fold. If he falls in with the wrong people, he will be a threat. I'm not ordering you to do this, but I'm very heavily urging it."

So it was that we enlisted Rilien to come with us on our journey. He was more than happy to do it, and I thought that maybe Faramir was right. Wherever he came from, Rilien had a deep well of knowledge when it came to the niceties of the court. He was a master diplomat and integrated himself into everyday political matters with a grace that I doubted even I could manage. If I were honest with myself, I would say that his level of adeptness made me nervous. It was as if he had been trained, and to my knowledge, tutelage in the affairs of monarchy had stopped hundreds of years ago. Like it or not, Gondor was considerably modernized, and palace mechanisms were a thing of the past. Still, I couldn't help but think Rilien was a ghost of the manipulations of past court puzzles. It was vaguely unnerving.

Emyn Arnen is directly across the Anduin from Minas Tirith, perhaps twenty miles to the SouthEast. We departed Minas Tirith to the Northeast, and forded the Anduin just under Osgiliath, near Morguiduin. It took us the better part of the morning to reach the Hills, and we stopped for a brief lunch at their feet before continuing onward. Legolas was in his element underneath the sky and clouds. He spurred his horse forward to race across the land before us at every chance he got, and the adoring smiles I received from him were assurance enough that I'd made the right choice in deciding to make the trip. I couldn't keep him locked up in Minas Tirith all the time, he needed nature as much as I needed air to breathe. Legolas' heart was connected to the earth, and I had no right to expect him to while away his days behind walls of stone.

The hills of Emyn Arnen nestled a great fortress in their midst. Surrounded by outlying farms, it had fallen into disrepair during times of war, the few nobles who had called it home having moved to Minas Tirith for better protection. It was a construct of great golden domes and pale arches of white stone. Each dome housed different sectors of nobility, with verdant gardens spilling out around them in a wild, but strangely organized explosion of greenery. We were greeted at the gate by a tired looking company of attendants, who had set out the morning before us to ensure that some of the rooms were in order for our stay. We were housed in the largest golden circumference; which consisted of a kitchen, dining hall, library, offices, several bedrooms and a multi-tiered conservatory. All of it was smaller than the amenities offered in Minas Tirith, but it would suit our needs during the time that we would spend there. Legolas, who was immediately enamored of the vast gardens, dragged Rilien off to examine the flora without a backwards glance. Elrond and I elected to have a look at the library, having not had the opportunity to speak alone together since the Wedding. It was a rectangular space, with the bookshelves rising halfway up the walls only to expand on to an intricate second floor. The paneling was painstakingly detailed, with quotes from different pieces of literature and story scenes engraved into the warm, reddish-brown hue of the wood. A great, green glass sphere glowed in the center of the room; slowly rotating to present a map of Arda. When touched, it focused in on the point of interest; detailing locations and rivers in intricate specificity.

"It's an Atlasphere" Elrond said smoothly, moving to stand beside me. "The last of its kind. They were fashioned in the Beginning, and the rest have been destroyed during times of war." He ran a finger over the cartography of Beleriand. "Many of the places listed here have been lost."

"Adar" I said quietly. "We haven't had a chance to speak. But I wanted to let you know, I'm truly grateful you are here."

He was silent for a moment, the sternness in his features lit up by the glow of the sphere.

"I'll not pretend that your change of heart was not a shock to me" he said quietly. "You'd pursued Arwen long and passionately, and suddenly you were all but blind to her." He turned and gazed at the shelves upon shelves of books around us. "When Legolas first arrived in Rivendell, I thought maybe Arwen would marry him. I even sent a missive to Thranduil asking that they work together for some time, in order to get to know each other."

"Legolas never mentioned this to me" I said quietly.

"Legolas never knew" Elrond said tiredly. "Thranduil didn't like the idea of merging the Silvan bloodline with that of the Noldor. At the time, Legolas had plenty of suitors and he was confident he would choose one." He smiled crookedly. "When it became clear that the Prince of Mirkwood was far more particular than he'd anticipated, Thranduil wrote to me again, suggesting that perhaps such a union was possible, but by that time, you had made it clear you wanted to marry her."

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked quietly.

"Because you should know that only the most specific of circumstances have brought you and Legolas together. Were Thranduil's frame of mind but a little bit different, and had your love been willing, you could be in a very different situation at this moment." He looked shrewdly at me. "I think you're well matched. You were both raised to rule, and he will be able to assuage your mind when you cannot. Arwen was brought up to understand the delicacies of our kind, but her life would have been very different at your side. In some ways, I'm grateful that you spared her."

"I must have hurt her…so terribly" I whispered.

"You broke her heart" Elrond agreed. "But you did not break her soul. She will find love again, I do not doubt it." He placed a hand on my shoulder. "I love you like one of my own. I watched you grow from a child to a man, one who is doing his best to have his Kingdom succeed. You have a wise and patient spouse who would throw himself upon a blade to save you, and you'll have time in the future to consider having children of your own."

"I'm just glad to have your approval" I said quietly. "I couldn't ask for more."

"It is hard, when what you expect of the future is suddenly changed, and the people you love are hurt for it" he replied. "But at the same time, we must accept that change does happen, and we cannot always control it. You chose to love someone who is your equal, and I respect that."

"Thank you, Adar."

We were silent for a time, until Elrond deigned to speak again.

"What do you know of Necromancers, Aragorn?"

"Very little" wryly. "I know that they deal with the dead."

"Necromancers carry the ability to commune with those who have not passed into the arms of Illuvatar; those who would see the destruction of the living, because their own suffering is more than they can bear."

"Like a Wight" I said slowly.

"Wights are just another legion of foot soldiers in the army of one such as Yusraa" Elrond said darkly. "She commands those who have forgone their opportunity of life after death…because of greed, tyranny, or pettiness they have fallen and become stuck in the Between." He turned his gaze to the Atlasphere. "They wander the world in search of something to fill the endless Void their souls have become. Necromancers give the Fallen Dead a purpose, and that purpose is to create more of the Dead. Gondorian Toadstools are creatures who feed on the spirits of those who have passed but linger on as wraiths. They are many-spirited monsters with an unquenchable hunger for expansion and domination."

"I still don't understand what makes Yusraa more dangerous than any other magic-wielder" I muttered.

"Do you remember when you commanded the Army of the Dead?" Elrond questioned. I nodded. "Then you will remember the amount of power behind your attacks on the forces of Sauron. The dead do not feel the pain of the living, the stroke of a sword means nothing, and the pain of defeat is naught. Yusraa commands all who are tied to the land through their Sins. Imagine your army of the dead tenfold, eleven-fold; along with dark creatures and daemons of darkness at your command."

A chill ran through my bones.

"What…what in the world does she want with Legolas?" I whispered.

"I have a theory" Elrond said darkly. "And you will not like to hear it."

"Tell me" I urged him. "Tell me, and perhaps I can be of more help."

"There is a Legend" my foster father began. "That Illuvatar chose Arda to be the wandering grounds for the sinful dead. The Perished spin the Evils as wraiths and drag the weak and cruel-hearted with them. History speaks to the terrors of things that creep within the night, and that maleficent intent works its greatest power in the darkness." He took a deep breath. "There is a tale, in the old books, of a babe born to the King of Men, who should have the power to pardon the unrighteous dead."

"But Legolas isn't born of men" I said exasperatedly.

"But any child he would bear would be" Elrond said grimly.

I swallowed.

"You are saying…that Yusraa has stirred from an endless sleep to kill my love because he might be the bearer of a child who could give the Dead their pardon?"

"Wouldn't it be enough?" the old elf replied. "Without the Dead, a Necromancer is powerless. The Darkness that comes from the grave is without an outlet, and it must fold and devour itself."

"If that is true, Yusraa will stop at nothing to kill Legolas" I said darkly.

"Now you see why I was loathe to tell you" Elrond said tiredly. "It is mere speculation, but the stakes are so high, you cannot afford to be careless."

"When would this child be born?" I pressed. "Surely not for a long while? Legolas hasn't given any indication of being with child."

"I do not know, Ionneg. Only time will tell. And it may not be the first child he bears, but the second or the third. The point is that you are playing a dangerous game, out here with no one to guard you." He seemed to sag then, as if tired. "At the same time, you risk the sanctity of your city if you stay."

"Did Thranduil know of your theories?" I pressed.

"No" Elrond said tightly. "I don't think he would have left if he had, but he is desperately needed in the Greenwood. I could not afford to burden him with such news when his people require him to be present."

"I don't know what to do" I said helplessly, sitting down. "Should I tell Legolas?"

"I would encourage it, in time. For now, focus on the tasks you have set out for you here, and return to Gondor as soon as you can."

It was a blessing, to be able to talk to my father again. I'd not had a chance in a while, and I held that time close to my heart. He told me that Rivendell seemed empty, with most of his kin having sailed. He wanted to sail, but he also had some desire to see the world rebuilt after the destruction of Sauron. My brothers, Elladan and Elrohir continued much of their studies in healing, and they sent their love. Elrond had put them in charge of Imladris while he was away, and they were happy to do it. We came across a great many old volumes that I determined to bring back to Minas Tirith for Gandalf to study. By the time we decided to turn in, it was late.

The rooms selected for Legolas and I were simple. The study, bath, and bed were all fit into a single rectangular space. Most of the decorations were a soft, creamy white, with pearly undertones. Legolas was sitting next to the fire, his head bent over a document with a Gondorian stamp. Rilien sat at his feet, nursing a glass of wine and staring into the flames. They made a strange picture, like night and day occupying the same space at the same time. Both glanced up when I entered the room, shedding my riding cloak and moving to the chest of clothes we'd brought along.

"Anything interesting in the garden?" I asked curiously.

"Legolas finds himself enamored of the bellfyrnes" Rilien said lightly, rising to his feet. "I'm rather partial to the sunswallows."

"That's because they're great, honking orange perennials that smell of strawberries" my love said dryly. "Anything ostentatious and outrageous…you're practically magnetic."

" _Ai!_ He's so cruel" the dark-haired elf whimpered, turning pleading eyes to me. "I don't know if I can stand it."

"Here" Legolas said shortly, handing him the scroll he'd been pouring over. "I've figured out the tax, have a look over it before you go to bed."

"The purpose of the tax was so you wouldn't have to go over anything" Rilien countered, snatching up the missive nevertheless. "I bid your Highnesses a goodnight!"

I watched as the door closed behind him, then turned to kiss my husband.

"You seem to have taken to him well" I murmured, stroking his sunlight-colored hair.

"He grows on you" Legolas grumbled. "Like a fungus." I laughed and drew him up from the chair. He sighed and leaned forward to rest his head on my shoulder; inhaling softly. ,i>"Amin mela lle" he murmured. Gentle, petal-soft lips began to suckle gently at my neck and I exhaled shakily. "Asca, make love to me."

"It would be my honor" I replied, carding my fingers through the silken fall of his hair. Gently, I tilted his chin up, searching that cerulean gaze for a moment before smiling gently. He returned the gesture, and it was like staring into the sun. My breath caught and I could only look at him, at the alabaster curve of his cheeks, and the whispering roseate bow of his perfect mouth. "I love you."

The night was young, and we embraced it with all the passion a young couple can have. The soft scent of wisteria gently floated in through the arched windows, twining us in a blanket of subtle fragrance. If I were honest, I was uneasy about taking Legolas to a place where there were fewer guards and no Gandalf. Now, with the knowledge that Elrond had imparted on me, I could barely stand the thought of staying another day. I didn't know if Yusraa would follow us, and if she did, if I would be able to defend him. A sense of urgency had driven me to Emyn Arnen, though I couldn't say exactly what it was. For now, I was content to acknowledge that tomorrow we would have a lot of work to do. But tonight, I had the sky and the stars, and the touch of my beloved. All else could wait 'till the rise of the sun.


	36. Emyn Arnen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Aragorn receives a proposal from Gloin, our couple shares a moment out in nature._

" _Mellon_ , those foxgloves so complement your eyes."

The soft purr of Rillien's voice rose over the curtain of forsythia obscuring my view of the gardens. Legolas' exasperated reply was lost to a soft gust of wind that rustled through the sunshine-yellow petals and mossy green leaves. I shook my head and let a smile play about my lips as I listened to their banter. If I didn't know Legolas better, I might have been worried about his fidelity. Rillien had a devastatingly salacious tongue, and the looks to back his rampant flirtations. If he wasn't so openly careless with his advances, I might have felt him a threat. Instead, he seemed far more interested in keeping Legolas preoccupied and busy. He presented theoretical difficulties regarding politics and my love rose to each challenge with magnificence and grace. Just the day before, he'd brought up the cost of keeping Emyn Arnen open, and they'd spun an intricate trade mechanism that left even me reeling with the brilliance of it. They were a team, and while most spouses might rile at the idea of their significant other working skillfully with another, I did not. Legolas needed equals in all portions of his life, be it mental or physical. Try as I might to be present in all aspects of his existence, it just wasn't a reality I could guarantee.

Emyn Arnen was like a memory wrought from a children's fairy tale. Each structure focused on the lush greenery surrounding every building. I almost envied the people who called the place home; having grown up in its verdant corridors. I greeted every morning looking out onto a sea of ever-changing color, the sun radiating down in prismatic rays of solar brilliance. I was able to work outside, something I'd not known I longed for until I experienced it. Getting through a stack of proposals was far easier with the wind on my face and the essence of nature all around me. It was easy to forget the whole business with Yusraa when encompassed with such beauty. Faramir had had no leads regarding her presence in Minas Tirith, and with Gandalf gone, our chances of finding her were slim to none. Regardless, I never let my guard drop, preferring to check and double check our defense. I took rounds with guards and asked them to refer anything suspicious to me. No information was forthcoming, but I hadn't really expected it to be. Someone like Yusraa would never be so careless, but it helped me rest easier at night knowing I was doing everything I could to keep Legolas safe.

My father spent copious amounts of time in the library. The literature there was just as old as some of the texts in Gondor, and a great amount of it had been thought lost. Denethor had begun to deny access to Emyn Arnen's library when the early stirrings of Sauron had reached the doors of Gondor. Nobody was sure why, only that the knowledge that all of history's signs pointed to the rise of a dark Maiar was possibly more than he was willing to handle. Sometimes, it is easier to live in denial, than to face a terrible truth. None of the texts shed any light on Ungoliant, or her mechanisms after the disappearance, but none of us really expected it. Sometimes, the monsters from days past simply have no beginning; instead, they rise from an endless night only to disappear into it once more.

" _Ionneg_ , a courier came in with a letter from Gloin."

Frowning, I looked up from a trade proposal from Anfalas. I could still hear Rilien and Legolas quietly conversing behind my curtain of forsythia. Their voices rose and fell in a soothing duet, rising into the air only to be snatched away by the wind. Elrond carried a thick scroll in his hand, and by the look of it, it had the appearance of both a personal letter and a set of documents. I bit my lip, inwardly grousing over the dangerous of friendship and politics, before taking the scroll and sitting back down.

"Thank you, Adar."

He sat down next to me, and I opened the collection of documents. The first was a perfunctory letter asking after Legolas' and I's well-being. It sent it's sentiments for the attack on the Guard, and I was surprised that word had travelled so quickly. Gloin included an affectionate missive from Gimli, who was happily mining away in the Glittering Caves. It seemed he had a Lady dwarf in his sights, and he glossed over several pages of affectionate description. Evidently, she had a magnificent beard and swung an axe like a Valkyrie. The other set of documents was more sobering. It detailed an extensive battle plan for purging Moria. My heart sank as I went through the details, realizing that Gloin was quite serious in his intent, and that he expected all the help he could possibly need from Gondor. While I thoroughly agreed with ridding Middle Earth of as much darkness as possible, I had not forgotten what lurked in the hidden Deeps of the world. The possibility we could stir one or more of any number of sleeping Ancients disturbed me greatly. We had enough to deal with considering Yusraa; storming the Gates of a mine overrun with orcs did not sit well with my conscience. Gondor wasn't recovered from Sauron's downfall, and it would take an army and a half to thoroughly flush out Moria. Though Gloin's letter suggested that the project begin two years from now, I wasn't sure if I would be in a position to lead my soldiers into death once more.

"Anything I might help you with?" Elrond asked lightly.

"Gloin wants to reclaim Moria, two years from now" I sighed, placing the scroll down.

"A challenging endeavor" the Lord of Rivendell commented. He picked up the missive and scanned it. "He seems very confident he will be able to secure your aid."

"I can't think of any reason to say no" I replied dryly. "We are allies with the dwarves, therefore, they have our promise of aid in times of war."

"But is this war?"

"It's a recovery effort, and a challenging one. I do not think they could do it alone, and I won't refuse them aid only to have them fall to their deaths." I reached for a quill and inkwell. "I wonder if Thranduil would be willing to lend a hand."

"You'd have to say something very impressive" Elrond said wryly. "However, I don't think the Woodland King holds quite as great a grudge against dwarves as he once did."

"Regardless, I have two years to arrange it" I muttered, pushing my work to the side and covering my brow. "I may as well send my assent now, so I can have some hand in the preparation."

"It won't be easy" my father said grimly. "You won't escape without a few hundred deaths, and as King you will be held accountable."

"I know that" I said grimly. "And I'm fully prepared to take responsibility. But I can't risk losing amicability with the dwarves. Every good soldier knows that in order to keep alliances alive you must sometimes fight for causes that aren't necessarily yours. My men are prepared to participate in battles not only to defend Gondor but to keep its peace."

"Proud words, but true ones."

"As much as I'd like to base Gondor's reputation on trade and peace-keeping alone, it is never that easy." I pulled the document outlining the specifics of the invasion agreement out of the pile and signed it. "If we're to war, I want to be ready for it. At least we're given two years of leeway." I gestured to an attendant standing near the entrance to the arbor. "Have these mailed out as soon as possible."

He bowed and left, leaving my foster father and I to our own devices. Elrond excused himself to the library after a few moments of amicable silence. I wrote out a friendlier letter to Gimli, inviting him to the End-Summer Procession, after which I found myself unable to return to my previous tasks. Returning my work to the study in our chambers, I set about the task of finding myself some lunch. The staff had a limited amount of food to supply us with, having brought only the bare minimum to suit our needs. The rest of Emyn Arnen had the luxury of consistent kitchen staff, but for now we had to make do with limited options. Procuring myself a slice of bread and some cheese, I meandered back to the abundance of forsythia, enjoying the summer air. I found myself tracing the route I knew Legolas had taken earlier that day, following a softly downtrodden path through newly sprung blades of grass to a small flowery glade. I was greeted with a humorous, mildly perturbing sight.

Having nothing better to do, the two elves had evidently decided to raid Emyn Arnen's considerable larders. Several scattered decanters of varying sizes indicated they'd put the staff to considerable work, and I felt a moment of pity for the distressed looking attendant standing in a corner of the arbor. Rillien seemed to have overdone himself, and was slumped over the patio bistro set with his head pillowed on his arms. His eyes blearily followed the movements of a butterfly that was adventurously following the swaying stamen of a wind-caught lily. A single, long-fingered hand traced the iron-work of his supporting table with a weaving but masterful precision. Legolas was miraculously upright, but looked far too happy to be in a sound frame of mind. Every so often, his lips would curve up into an alluring smile at nothing in particular; his head tilting back to enjoy the soft sunlight filtering through the garden. As I approached, he made to rise as if to greet me, but something in his eyes seemed to realize this was a terrible idea and he sank back down again.

"Meleth-nin" he said softly, and there was only the slightest amount of a lilting slur in his voice.

I folded my arms behind my back and made to look stern, but failed spectacularly.

"You seem to be having fun." Rilien half-sighed half-garbled something unintelligible, apparently in great danger of sliding out of his seat. Legolas watched with idle amusement as I propped him up. "You can go" I said to the terrified-looking guard. "Send someone to clean this up."

"You look ravishing" Legolas purred, gripping my lapels with surprising deftness as I dragged him up from his seat.

"Yes, yes" I muttered. "Flattery. You've been spending far too much time with a philandering coquette."

"But I'm out of your hair" my love complained. He paused for a moment before dragging his fingers through my aforementioned locks. "I love your hair."

Momentarily distracted, I stumbled, protesting as my unfairly forceful husband dragged me into a hidden alcove. It was surrounded by a thick curtain of laurel with an explosion of purple hyacinth. Soft, spring grass covered a circular expanse of lawn within, evergreen fronds bobbing gently in the afternoon wind. I yelped as Legolas pushed me down, a predatory look in his eye; his hands reaching for the laces to my breeches before I could so much as stop him.

"Legolas!" I huffed. "Come now, _ah!_ "

Demanding fingers rid me of my garments with a precision that was astounding for someone so obviously inebriated. A hot, hungry mouth pressed insistent kisses to my knees and thighs before swallowing my traitorous need in one skillful movement. My breath caught, and my vision contorted into a sea of ivory white. A skillful tongue worked me into a state of irrational ecstasy, ignoring the obvious publicity of our situation. Deceptively slender fingers held down my hips as I opened my eyes to watch Legolas' sunlight-colored locks slide up, only to plunge back down again. Sapphire blue eyes watched me idly from the juncture between my legs, and I felt his lazy smirk more than I saw it. It was glorious, as much as it was so deliciously in appropriate and salacious, I couldn't bring myself to stop him. I shuddered, feeling myself spiraling to a ruinous ending far sooner than I wanted to. He hummed eagerly, sensing the impending finish to his hurried pleasures on the horizon.

Growling, I steeled myself, placing a palm on his forehead and wrenching myself away from that hot, demanding mouth. He made a noise of protest and moved as if to stop me, but I wrapped my legs around him and flipped us over so that he was suddenly on the bottom. Mildly disoriented, it took Legolas a moment to begin protesting as I wrenched up his robes.

"Not fair" he whimpered, gasping as my fingers gently gripped the soft inside of his thigh. "Estel, not fair."

"Oh no" I whispered. "You don't get to get ridiculously drunk and take advantage of me. That's not how it works." I latched onto the alabaster skin of his neck, sucking idly as I relished the way his hips jerked involuntarily. "No" I murmured, grinding into him. "I'm not going to give you that opportunity."

He cried out and arched, his slender hands gripping the soft tendrils of grass beneath us. I lifted my fingers to his lips and he opened them, sucking mindlessly as I rid him of the rest of his clothes, mapping every inch of his body with my mouth. His frantic movements slowed as I began to prepare him, and I watched as he gave in to the slow blaze of pleasure I stoked within him. His eyes grew-heavy lidded and his cheeks began to flush hungrily. His gestures became wanton and suggestive as he opened to me, slender digits carding through my hair as he tugged me closer.

"More" he whimpered, arching into my touch. "Please."

Withdrawing my fingers, I steadied him with one hand on his hip. Slowly, ignoring my body's insistence for swiftness, I entered him. Legolas mouth fell open, his lips forming a silent circular exclamation of pleasure as his hips arced into the invasion with a subtle undulation. All else fell away as I was presented with the moist, prurient heat of his body. I groaned, forcing myself to remain still as he adjusted. I had no oil to prepare him, and it wouldn't be fair to press him under the circumstances. Sooner than I expected, he was urging me to move, his mouth finding mine as he wrapped his legs around my waist.

Each thrust into that glorious, searing heat was indescribable pleasure. Legolas gasped and gripped my hips, his skin breaking out in a thin sheen of perspiration as his body responded to me; caught in the throes of passion. I felt each shuddering contraction as I found that magical center within him that made him cry out and twist in my arms.

" _Ai!_ Aragorn" he sobbed. _"Please!"_

I slowed, bringing his legs up, grasping his ankles in one hand before pressing down and grinding myself into him. I chuckled darkly as he threw his head back and wailed. I continued at the same, leisurely pace, watching as a pink tongue emerged to run over lascivious lips; slender hips convulsing once-twice before he released silently, his eyes wide. I followed soon after, burying my face in the crook of his neck.

We lay there for a while, catching our breath. The aftershocks of my release thrummed happily through every vein; a contented feeling warming me to the core. Eventually, I rolled to the side and Legolas followed 'til we lay facing each other. My lover's body shivered with aftershocks, his expression bleary as he watched me under heavily lidded eyes. I traced the slender bow of his lips, memorizing the soft give of the rosy flesh under my fingertips. The afternoon sun was luxuriously warm against my clothes-less body, and Legolas' skin shimmered a soft, milky alabaster in its decadent rays. Blonde lashes dusted ivory cheeks, and I smiled contentedly as I gazed at him.

"You're beautiful" I murmured.

A light snore was the only reply I got in return. Forcing myself to move, I drew Legolas' robe over him before hastening to dress myself. Once I was properly outfitted once more, I began the tedious task of clothing my unconscious husband. He didn't so much as stir as I labored, and I thought exasperatedly of the elven wonders of getting gloriously inebriated and making love. I privately hoped he had a massive headache when he woke, but I knew it was unlikely. Gathering my sleepy bundle of elf into my arms, I made as surreptitious a path back to our rooms as possible. I received a few strange looks from the servants, but none came to question me. Legolas sighed softly as I laid him down on the white comforter, but gave no other indication he was going to wake. I watched him sleep for a little while, caught between wanting to wake him to scold him and letting him sleep so beatifically. Eventually, I turned and took a seat next to the fire. I poured myself a glass of wine-which felt strangely ironic-and sipped it idly as I stared into the flames. Strangely, I felt harmoniously content, a languorous satisfaction filling me out to my fingers and toes. It was familiar, but somehow very intimate, even though Legolas was several feet away and snoozing cheerfully. I couldn't place it but something was different, in a good way. I felt as if I had accomplished something, though I couldn't say what.

After some time, I drowsed. My dreams were light and untroubled, though the chair I was in wasn't particularly comfortable. When an attendant came in to tend the fire I didn't pay her any mind preferring to rise and join my husband in bed. We rarely slept during the day, but it felt a necessary thing. The long shadows of late afternoon fell through the windows and still we dreamed on. At some point, Legolas turned to bring himself closer to me, and I drew him in to a drowsy embrace. Vaguely, through the haze of my somnolent mind, I could hear the birds getting ready for evening. The soft scent of honeysuckle trickled in through the window and set my senses alight in a perfumed aroma of unavoidable dusk.

It wasn't until Elrond came to look for us that we woke. He stood patiently at the mantle, looking tolerant but worried. Legolas appeared disoriented, but gathered his bearings swiftly. I almost envied his ability to recover. Smoothing his robes, he shot me an apologetic smile before going to sit in one of the chairs by the heart. I remained in bed for a moment, allowing myself to wake up before joining them. An attendant came in to provide a cool tea and fruit before bowing himself out, and Legolas took and apple, munching thoughtfully as I straightened my tunic.

"There's been an attack" Elrond said calmly, after we had settled.

I stiffened.

"Where?"

"In Minas Tirith" my foster father continued, plucking at a loose thread in his robes. "It appears that Yusraa has played her hand once more."

I swallowed thickly, and Legolas moved to take my hand.

"How many are dead?" he questioned. Elrond hesitated and I glared at him. "How many?" my husband repeated.

"…Forty. It was a visiting group from Rohan…just inside the Rammas Echor." Elrond paused again, and appeared to gather himself. "Leofwyn and Gleothain are among the dead."

Legolas made a soft noise of despair, and I felt a dark anger rise in my chest as I watched a single tear slide down his cheek. I swiped a thumb over his hand but his grip had gone limp.

"In what manner did they die?" I whispered.

"It isn't particularly known" the Lord of Rivendell continued delicately. "Only…only that they were set up on stakes, and their bodies arranged to form a semblance of the White Tree."

"Why?" Legolas exclaimed, and his voice trembled. "Why all of this?!"

Elrond cast a sharp glance at me, and I felt a twinge of guilt. I hadn't told Legolas about what he'd divulged upon me. I didn't feel that he deserved the extra weight on his shoulders. But now, regardless of whether he knew or not, I could sense that he felt responsible for the deaths of those around him. Legolas couldn't shoulder the guilt of forty souls without knowing some sort of reason, I couldn't allow it. It wasn't fair to his conscience. As much as he'd tried to hide it, I knew he'd felt the deaths of the soldiers who had perished in the Council Hall. Just as I had felt responsibility as King, he'd felt accountable due to cause.

"There's something I need to tell you" I said softly.

To his credit, Legolas took it well. Elves take a considerable amount of stock in prophecy, and he understood the gravity of his situation. Elrond supplied clarity when he asked for it, and I did my best to bring the situation to light gently, without accusation. Still, I couldn't help but notice the despair and trepidation in my lover's eyes. I couldn't blame him, bearing a child with such a weighty Fate was a heavy responsibility. The idea that someone would kill you to prevent it was a horrible reality.

"How does Yusraa know it will be me?" Legolas asked quietly, shifting in his seat.

"She doesn't" Elrond said gravely. "It banks upon the fact that she has awakened now, and that the prophecy lines up with the pentameter of your lifespan."

"But you don't believe that" I supplied quietly. Elrond gave me a steady look.

"You are a King of Men" Elrond said calmly. "And you will be, for a long time. The timespan between you and the last King is too great to indicate that you yourself are the vindicator of the Dead."

"But Aragorn did pardon them" Legolas pressed. "We went to the Paths of the Dead."

"Indeed" Elrond conceded. "But they were only a small portion of the Unpardoned that walk the earth. There are thousands upon thousands more." He took a deep breath. "Even if your child is not the One, killing you would be an easy way to guarantee the end of the Prophecy. Ever will your line be Kings of Men. Ending it before it begins is always the better move."

"But why kill Legolas?" I pressed. "Surely the best avenue of preventing succession would be to kill me?"

"If Legolas died, would you remarry?" Elrond countered.

"No" I said shortly, as pain at the mere suggestion blossomed in my chest.

"You don't know that" the blonde-haired elf said gently.

"I do" I countered, perhaps more harshly than I intended.

"You are not a threat because you cannot bear an heir" Elrond continued. "Yusraa is just as aware of your upbringing as I am. You were raised among elves, and taught that once you choose a partner, you remain with them for life. None can replace them, and none can come after. Killing a King is hard. Killing the irreplaceable love of his life is easier." The old elf smirked. "If it helps, it shows that Yusraa knows and appreciates the deep spiritual connection of your affection for each other."

"That doesn't really help at all" I said with mock-cheerfulness.

"I've said enough" Elrond continued wearily, looking suddenly tired. "I'm sure you both would like a moment to discuss this between yourselves. I advise you return to the city tomorrow, people will ask questions, and you and Faramir will need to be on the same page with the answers."

He left then, without further elaboration. I glanced over at Legolas, who was pensively silent, staring at the fire. The light from the flames played across the alabaster of his features, highlighting the golden fall of his hair; which hid his expression from my view. His hand had come to rest, perhaps unconsciously, on his belly. I could tell nothing from his posture, which remained relaxed but alert.

"I would understand" I began, then paused to clear my throat. "I would understand if you didn't want to have children after hearing this." When he was still silent I continued. "There are herbs you can take monthly, that would prevent it."

"And you think that the simple announcement that we intend to remain childless would stop Yusraa?" Legolas murmured softly. I opened my mouth to speak, but faltered. Sea-blue eyes met mine, in an expression of determined tenderness. "I think not."

"It was a thought" I said quietly.

"Is it what you want?" he queried.

"You know it's not" I said roughly.

He stood and came to kneel in front of me, pushing his chin out in an expression of stubbornness. I smiled fondly and cupped his cheek.

"You are the light in my soul" I whispered, then smiled mischievously. "Even if you do like having inappropriate relations in strange gardens."

"You married an elf" he retorted, rolling his eyes. "If you thought making love in nature was off the table you've been sorely mislead."

"Don't be cheeky" I teased, pushing a lock of sunlight-colored hair behind a pointy ear. I sobered. "I'm glad you know that you still want children."

He smiled and tilted his head.

"Where you go, I go" he murmured. "Our children will have the best lives we can possibly offer. And I will be honored to be able to call you their father."

I pursed my lips.

"That's something I've been curious about" I pressed. "If I'm the father, what are you, the mother?"

Legolas scowled.

"We'll cross the bridge when we get to it."

"Of course, my love" I said soothingly. "But I think mother is rather fitting."

"King Elessar" Legolas said sternly. "I think if you should suggest I be Naneth one more time I shall hit you with a pillow."

"Quite a threat" I said gravely. "Can we negotiate the terms of my surrender?"

Legolas seemed to wilt slightly, and his hand trembled.

"I…I don't think I'm up for jesting tonight" he replied, covering his brow. "I keep thinking of those poor children."

"Leofwyn and Gleothain" I supplied, and he nodded.

"I loved them" he said bitterly. "As surely as I would love my own. They didn't deserve their Fate."

"I'll make arrangements to return to Minas Tirith tomorrow" I said calmly, stroking a hand over his hair. "We can face this, but together."

Legolas smiled tenderly.

"I don't know what I would do without you, _meleth."_

I crooned a wordless response and leaned in to kiss him. I was grateful to know that he was still willing to start a family with me, regardless of the risks. It was with that thought in mind that I was able to resume my work later and look to the future. Sometimes, the little truths in life are the things that keep us going. Like the warmth of a fire on the coldest night; our souls are warmed by virtuous verity. I was content with my lot, and come what may, I would never forget the things I had. Regardless of the danger that lurked at our doorstep, I was happy with what I had been given, and my life was full.


	37. Edicts and Appetites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Aragorn and Legolas deal with the aftermath of Yusraa's attack (again), Rilien is strange (as usual)._

Gondor was in a state of turmoil.

I always imagined my reign as a peaceful one. Perhaps I'd have some trouble flushing orcs out of hard-to-reach pockets of darkness, but otherwise I'd always supposed my rule would be rather straightforward. Now, I was faced with the mad antics of the lunatic spawn of darkness personified. People were dying left and right, in gruesomely calculated ways. Yusraa treated the act of murder like an art. She put her kills out on display in order to spread panic and disorder. Each death was a statement, and unfortunately, the message was disconcertingly clear.

While Legolas was the prime target, causing a state of unrest in a city unused to subtle turmoil made Gondor's defense weak. While Minas Tirith panicked and pointed fingers, Yusraa could slip in and out undetected. While my attention was divided between a distraught husband and a city that wanted to see someone hang for the atrocities committed, our vulnerability was a gaping wound. Now, our departure from the city seemed like escape and cowardice. Regardless of our good intentions, a King disappearing in the midst of a bloodbath brought an amount of ire that was unprecedented. Emyn Arnen was now bringing in commerce daily, but no one cared about that. They cared about the men, women, and children who had been slaughtered like livestock with no recompense.

Upon our return, we were greeted by a mob at the Gate. The thunder of thousands of angry shouts and screams was purgatory to my ears. Even as Faramir led us to a guarded side passage and ferried us to the Council Hall in secrecy, I was sick to my stomach. I had been so, so careless. No matter what my intent, the results were catastrophic and I had no idea how I was going to repair the damage. It wouldn't matter if I held every funeral under the White Tree with an assembly of the Revered Guard; I couldn't bring back the dead, and the dead were numerous. Minas Tirith's Treasury was vast, but as much as I wanted to pretend I could pay everything forward, I knew it was impossible. The people wanted a name and a face, and I could only give them an assumed identity, veritably a phantom. Without someone to prosecute, and the death toll rising, the people were becoming mistrustful and angry. I was at odds. If I presented the truth of the situation, I risked ire being directed at my spouse. Someone might try to eliminate Legolas simply because he was a threat, and we had enough to deal with in the assassination department already.

Having avoided the bulk of the angry mob, Faramir took us to his office and locked the door. He shot a weary glance at Rilien, who was leaning against the wall looking disturbingly unperturbed, and gestured for us to sit down. My Steward was pale and drawn, and I the guilt I was already feeling only mounted further.

"I should never have let you go" he said hoarsely, slumping in his chair. "It was a foolish, careless decision."

"I'm as much at fault as you" I replied, brushing the dust off my travelling clothes. "I thought if we left, Yusraa would follow. I was wrong."

"Rohan wants recompense" Denethor's son continued. "Their people were slaughtered, they want to know why."

"What does the Lady Eowyn say?" Legolas queried.

"She's been a blessing in all of this" Faramir replied, covering his brow. "Honestly, I think she's the only reason Eomer hasn't stormed the Gates. She rode out to Rohan right after the attack, and hasn't been back since. She'll have told him the cause, as she knows the truth of it all." He shifted in his seat. "The people want an explanation, and the only reason I haven't given it is because I think it would hurt Legolas, but we must give them something."

"You could always fabricate something" Rilien said smoothly, from his place in the shadows. "If you cannot tell the truth, you must lie."

"And what do you suggest, Son of Veryan?" I asked wearily.

The dark-haired elf stretched like a cat and stalked forward.

"Yusraa seeks not only to kill Legolas, but to ruin your reign" he purred. "What better way to do it than to cause unrest between a King and his People? Sauron has fallen, but that does not mean his denizens have forgotten him, nor have the people of Gondor. Tell them that one of his Underlings seeks revenge, by bringing down the Men of the Earth from the inside out."

"And what happens when the killings don't stop?" Legolas snapped. "When we cannot bring a face to the public despite the hundreds that have fallen in the name of this so-called 'revenge?'"

"None of us have ever seen Sauron's face" Rilien said smoothly. "But he was still powerful enough to strike fear in every heart. Evil is born in the art of subtlety. If your people do not understand the intricacies of a plot to bring down one of the greatest reigns in Middle Earth, I shall be sorely disappointed."

"You put a lot of faith in a fearful people's ability to put two-and-two together" I said drily. "And Legolas is right, what if we can't stop Yusraa? We're practically helpless without Gandalf, and she's shown no indication of having a weakness. Sauron's weakness was the One Ring, but there is no Mount Doom and no trinket we can throw into everlasting flame."

"Everyone has a weakness" my husband's attendant replied sagely. "This will buy you time to find it."

As much as I wanted to deny it, Rilien was right. We needed calm and order in order to make progress locating Yusraa, and we wouldn't have it until the public had some sort of explanation. Explaining that the attacks were aftershocks of Sauron's demise was logical, calculated, and believable. The memory of his tyranny was still fresh, and as much as I hated to lie, it shielded Legolas from any kind of backlash. Faramir arranged for the announcement to be held under the White Tree the next day, his logic being the sooner we could announce the fabricated problem, the better the opportunity to address the real one. Legolas, in a brilliant gesture of generosity, arranged an admirable memorial service in the palace gardens. A tree was planted for each life that had been lost, and a stone plaque was set up with the names of the dead. He also arranged a mail service for people who had questions or grievances about the attacks. Each letter was brought directly to his office, and he answered every missive personally. I let him do it, because I knew he felt a great amount of responsibility for the whole affair, and it brought him some small measure of comfort. The people took the announcement with no small measure of incredulity. They didn't like the idea that Sauron still had a hold over Gondor, but at the same time they understood that even monarchs were often stymied under the weight of such great evil. The city was nervous, but no longer angry at its caregivers. I thought it a small blessing, and took none of the subsequent peace for granted.

A letter from Gandalf came in the day after the announcement. It was fraught with concern and trepidation, and he informed us that he would be back in the city within the next two weeks. The Hobbits had settled back into the Shire, and though Frodo was weary, he was moving forward. All of our short-statured friends sent their love and concern, and it warmed my heart to hear from them. Gandalf cautioned us to have care, and to limit the amount of traffic we had in and out of the city until his return. He also recommended a curfew and to instate a degree that required everyone to be accompanied by at least one other when out in public. Legolas wrote up a doctrine that required children to be supervised at all times, and set up various tutelages for them to attend in favor of running about the streets. Elrond and the Captain of the Guard arranged combat training sessions that were free for the men of the city to attend, and the Healing Houses advertised tutelage on bandaging wounds and identifying various healing herbs for the women. It was a small comfort, as those of us who knew Yusraa's nature were aware that there was little any of it would accomplish should she strike again. But it gave the people a sense of security and structure, and a unified functionality was our ultimate goal.

Legolas and I were afforded very little time together while we tried to restore some semblance of peace to the city. Each of us had paperwork separate from the needs that were forefront, and we were obligated to accomplish it during time we normally would have reserved for each other. Rilien spent a great amount of time ferrying affectionate missives between the two of us, and seemed to take great pleasure in reading them before the receiver had had a chance to look it over. I was beginning to suspect his only purpose in life was to a get a rise out of everyone, though he was very good at doing it in a way that made you want to laugh about it afterwards. I didn't have much time to think on it, really, I had no time to think about anything but the responsibilities laid out before me. If I wasn't busy scouring every text known to man for a mention of the weaknesses of Necromancing, I was pouring over documents Faramir left on my desk with weary fervor. More often than not, I found myself catching spare hours of sleep in my chair in the wee hours of the morning; nodding off over trade proposals and the odd treaty while the fire burned low. It was stressful and mind-bending, I had to remind myself more than once that all of it was utterly necessary.

It was late in the afternoon, perhaps three weeks after our return from Emym Arnen, that I suddenly found myself with nothing to do. I'd been going through a stack of documents that proposed a new road from Minas Tirith to Linhir. When I reached from the next leaf of parchment, my fingers closed on empty air. Momentarily stymied, I rose and peeked over the edge of the desk, sure that I had dropped something on the floor. When a discovery of the similar sort was not forthcoming, I sat back and tried to recall if Faramir had told me to do that I had possibly forgotten. When nothing came to mind, my thoughts immediately turned to Legolas. My heart sank, as I realized that though I was-for the moment-not busy at all, he would surely be. Nevertheless, I held on to the small sliver of hope that we would both be somehow simultaneously lucky. Putting away my quill and inkwell, I methodically cleared my desk before stepping out of my office and locking the door. I passed a few attendants and an elderly Council member, who offered me cheerful, perfunctory greetings, but was otherwise undisturbed. Nosing my way up to the agricultural constituent, I nearly collided with Rilien, who was carrying a large tomb in his hands. Momentarily stymied, I almost missed as his long fingers moved to cover the title, his lips curling into a duplicitous smile. He settled the book on his hip, carefully turning the front of it into his body. I debated on pressing him for it, but decided that even the most ostentatious of us must have our secrets.

" _Mae govannen, Estel"_ he drawled, and I winced at his use of my childhood name. "What brings you to this section of government?"

"I have some free time" I replied, folding my arms. "And I thought I might spend it with Legolas, is he here?"

"Pity" the dark-haired elf sighed dramatically. "You've just missed him. He went up to your quarters to look over some paperwork, though he wouldn't say why he wanted to do it there rather than here." He tapped his lip pensively. "If you like, I can escort you to him."

"It's not necessary" I said dryly.

"Oh, I insist" he trilled, turning to disappear into what I assumed was his office. He reappeared a moment later, bookless. "After all, as King you should emphasize your two-by-two edict."

He took my arm and cast me an adoring glance that was so see-through it might as well have been glass.

"I wish you'd stop being so impossible" I grumbled as we fell into step.

"You shall wish long and for nothing" he quipped as we exited the Council Hall. "I'm afraid my eccentricities are rather ingrained." He winked. "You should learn to love them instead."

"As much as I respect your kind, I can't help but think you must have been raised among the fey" I remarked, trying to tug my arm free to no avail.

"Quite the contrary" he said amusedly, drawing his bright orange robe up to step over some gathered rainwater. "I was raised in the highest of Courts." He stopped to adjust his grip on my arm and I gritted my teeth. "My mother" he continued with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Was a great woman, with many unconventionalities. My father adored her, but he was a serious man with fierce ambition and she could not tie him down. He had great dreams, and even us children couldn't keep his attention overlong. He taught us the necessities for survival and longevity, but was soon bored, so we were left with my Naneth."

"It sounds a sad tale" I remarked.

"I think it's all rather joyous" he laughed, earning a few strange looks from passerby. "He taught us everything he could, and when he was no longer useful, he left. I think that's the way it ought to be."

"A parent should be there for their children whether they need them or not" I said calmly.

"Ah yes, your father, he died didn't he? Such a shame, and a great man too."

"Another took his place" I replied as we passed under the gate to the sixth tier. "And he was just as good a father as my first, if not better."

"Because he survived" Rilien said dryly. "Not much you can do as a parent when you're in the ground, I'm afraid."

"You do like to shock" I replied exasperatedly.

"A jester is only as amusing as his tricks" he remarked with roll of his eyes.

"What made you decide to come to Gondor?"

"I have a vested interest in the future of Men" Rilien replied, smiling distantly. "After all, my kind are leaving these shores. I would see the future of Middle Earth upheld, before I decide what to do with my future."

Privately, I thought his words rather empty. As flamboyant and energetic as his gestures were, there was an blankness behind them. I sensed that he overcompensated for something he greatly lacked, and I couldn't decide if it alarmed me or not. He entertained Legolas, but his ministrations were based on my lover's tolerance, and I guessed that if Legolas were kinder to him he would soon grow bored. Rilien needed confusion and dissension as much as I needed order, he thrived upon it. I disliked the thought of him about when there was little else to do. He was troubled in a way that was not a little bit unhealthy, and if he were to feed even the slightest bit of his innocuous nature to Legolas, I was ready to ensure his dismissal at any given time. He knew this, and it seemed to make him more determined than ever to permanently fuse himself into our everyday lives. I couldn't say I disliked him, but I certainly didn't trust him.

Legolas was sitting on a chaise lounge in a courtyard in the Tower of Ecthelion. He had a blanket drawn up to his knees, and was looking rather pale. Before him were a scattering of papers, but he appeared to be nodding off in front of them. I frowned, a flutter of concern stirring in my chest as I looked at him. Rilien detached himself from my arm and moved forward with the grace of a traveling dancer.

" _Mellon, sut naa lle umien?_ " he purred. "You have a visitor."

"Ya?" the golden-haired elf sighed, pulling himself up. His eyes traveled over his advisor before settling on me. The tiredness in his gaze lifted slightly as he smiled. "Aragorn, how good to see you. I wasn't expecting to hear from you today."

"Nor I" I commented, striding forward to sit on the edge of the chaise. I took his hand. "I have some time to myself, and wondered if you would like to spend it with me." I gestured to his scattered paperwork. "But I can see that you are busy."

"I wasn't doing much of anything" he chuckled quietly, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. "I'm afraid I'm so very tired today, I can't seem to get anything done."

"I could fetch you both some dinner" Rilien offered, still standing in the same spot. "Perhaps you could share a meal together."

Legolas frowned as his stomach gave a growl of agreement, and I laughed.

"I think we have the answer to that" I commented. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, we'd like that very much."

"I'll be back soon" the dark-haired elf promised before disappearing down a shadowed corridor.

Legolas watched him go before sighing heavily, his fingers trembling slightly as he drew the blanket closer to him.

"Are you well?" I asked, concerned. "You look pale."

"I'm just hungry" he replied, brushing a lock of hair away from his face. "I haven't been eating well these past few days. It's catching up to me, I'm afraid."

"You need to take better care of yourself" I soothed him. "I know we've had a lot of work to do between the two of us, but you can still afford to take some time for yourself."

"I've gotten over two hundred letters asking over the whole 'Sauron' affair" he grumbled. "I thought you made it rather clear when you spoke to the public."

"People are going to have questions, no matter how much I say and do" I chided him gently. "And you did sign up for it."

"Still no word from Gandalf?"

"No" I murmured, momentarily sobered. "He should be here any day now."

"I hope he can help us" the elf remarked. "I'm getting tired of looking over my shoulder."

Rilien returned then, with two servants. They set out a table in front of the couch, with an assortment of fruits and vegetables for Legolas and a plate of lamb for me should the need arise. Wine was poured and I sipped mine but Legolas didn't touch his, looking faintly sick at the very thought of drinking it. The attendants left and Rilien went to sit in a corner with a book, out of earshot. The lamb was very good; someone had taken the trouble to season it to perfection and I made a note to send a missive down to the chef with my compliments. There was a lemon sorbet for dessert, and I eyed it with predatory anticipation as I waited for my husband to finish his meal. Legolas had taken a few pieces of fruit, but slowed down after a few bites, looking faintly green. At my glance, he seemed to steel himself to try again, but gasped and appeared to gag, pushing his plate as far away from him as he was able.

"Legolas" I said flatly. "What in Illuvatar's name is wrong?"

"I don't know" he said shakily, reaching for a pitcher of water and pouring himself a glass. "I…I just can't eat…it all smells terrible."

Unable to finish my own meal when my spouse was in such obvious discomfort, I put down my fork and engaged him in a discussion about trade. He was happy to oblige and we were soon swapping ideas, while the food went untouched. I was grateful to spend any amount of time with him, even if he wasn't in the best of spirits. His presence was uplifting and I was reminded again of why my life held so much meaning. We were discussing the niceties of a bridge over the river Serni when I noticed Legolas was eyeing the lamb on my plate. Every so often his hand would sneak forward as if to steal my fork, only to hesitate and snatch itself back. I let it go on, more for my own amusement then anything, before offering him a piece. He looked uncertain for a moment, as if he'd been caught doing something terrible, before he threw all caution to the wind and popped a piece into his mouth. I grinned as his eyes went wide and his lashes fluttered.

"You can have the rest" I said encouragingly sliding the plate over to him.

It was as if I'd told him Midwinter had come early. He polished it off as if he'd been starving, and I guessed he rather had been. It was with one part mirth and more parts disbelief that I watched him reach for the other slice of lamb that had been allotted and devour it as well.

"I knew you would realize the benefits of protein eventually" I commented cheerfully.

"There are no benefits in protein" he snapped, then flushed. "It was…uniquely flavored."

"It's the same that we had a week ago" I remarked. "And you didn't show the slightest interest in it then."

"Don't bully me" he groused. "It was a one-time thing."

And yet, he seemed he was wrong yet again on that front. It wasn't but the very next day that I watched him try his hand at pheasant and practically fall head over heels. The day after that it was veal, then bacon. Every time he found a new meat that he enjoyed, he had a mental crisis. This usually involved desperately insisting this was the very last time he would try it, and he'd never do it again. He'd always eaten with grace, but there was a newly discovered wonder in his expression that was endearing. I found it amusing but at the same time disconcerting. Elves naturally avoid meat, it does terrible things to their digestive tract, but Legolas didn't seem to experience any negative effects. He in fact seemed healthier for it, with a soft glow replacing the washed out pallor I'd witnessed on him a few days before.

Rilien had little to say on the matter, commenting that he thought it was absolutely disgusting but as long as no adverse effects were forthcoming he didn't see anything wrong with it. I asked him to keep an eye on him nevertheless, and he was grudgingly forthcoming. Gandalf arrived four days after Legolas had discovered his new-found love of all things carnivorous. He was weary from his journey, as the weather had made it longer than he anticipated. We greeted him at the Gates and left him to settle into his rooms before inviting him for an afternoon lunch. He acceded, and we joined him in the palace gardens a while later. I had sent off the missive approving the road, and Legolas had several agricultural progress reports to look over before we could come together without any further judicial obligations. I met Elrond at the entrance to the Healing Circuit, and we made our way to the gardens together.

Faramir had arranged the gathering in a circuit overlooking the ovular curve of the wall, with a thicket high-growing holly giving us some semblance of privacy. Inside were the herb gardens Legolas so loved to tend, thriving in the warm summer sun. Wicker chairs had been set in a vaguely circular pattern for us to sit on, each with its own rectangular table with tall spindly legs on the side. A luncheon had been set out, with an assortment of bread, honey, fruit, cheeses, and cold cuts. Legolas was already there, eyeing a glass of cold tea with an expression of utmost suspicion. He and Elrond exchanged pleasantries while I poured myself a glass of wine and settled into a chair next to my husband. A moment later, Rilien swept in and curled himself around Legolas feet in a catlike manner, blinking sleepily at my exasperated expression. Gandalf joined us not long after that, having changed from his dust grey travelling cloak to his traditional white robes. He accepted an attendant's offer of a glass of water before choosing a wicker seat with a direct view of the rest of us, leaning his staff on the arm.

"It is good to see you, Mithrandir" Elrond said smoothly. He shifted a plethora of scrolls he'd brought up from the library so he could sit more comfortably. "We've had great need of you here."

"Well met, Elrond Half-Elven" Gandalf rumbled. "And I hope I can be of good service." He made to speak once more then stopped, his gaze finally falling upon Rilien. "Who are you?"

"Rilien Caunwaithon" he replied, rubbing his cheek on Legolas' robes. "At your…revered service."

"That doesn't answer my question" the old wizard said sternly, raising a bushy brow.

"Rilien has been very helpful with reconstructing Gondor's trade, commerce, and agricultural divisions" Elrond replied.

"I said I'd be useful" the dark-haired elf purred. "And I am."

Gandalf gave me a hairy look and I shrugged.

"Faramir vouched for him" I muttered. "He's cleverer than he looks."

"And he's also your… _kept man?_ " he asked Legolas.

"Oh, I like the sound of that" Rilien drawled.

"Do shut up" Legolas said lightly. "He's just imposing like this, you'll learn to tolerate it."

"Indeed" Gandalf said slowly. "And do you know of our topic of concern for this meeting?"

"If you're speaking of our darling Yusraa, yes I do" was the flippant reply. "She's been quite out of reach but incredibly active." He smirked. "If you want my suggestion, I would start at the site of the last slaughter."

"You could trace the magical signature" I supplied, catching on to his train of thought. "Like you did with the Gondorian Toadstool."

"It all depends on the amount of traffic the area has seen" Gandalf said slowly, still apparently reluctant of Rilien. "And if you've had any hard weather in the past weeks, I'm afraid it's just not a possibility."

"We had some light rain a week ago" Elrond supplied. "But there may still be traces." He picked a dusty-looking tomb out of his pile of scrollwork. "I've been looking into texts regarding Necromancy. Apparently, those with such a proclivity can't use their powers properly unless surrounded by a large amount of the dead."

"Well Gondor's certainly in no shortage of corpses" I commented dryly. "Rath Dinen is brimming with the Honored Dead."

"But the Dead there are Virtuous" Elrond countered calmly. "A Necromancer couldn't draw power from them because they died with Honor. It explains why Yusraa's power isn't a constant. She can gather it from someplace like the Dead Marshes, and use it in great bursts and displays of tyranny, but once her power has been depleted she can't force her hand."

"So we take a census of who comes and goes within the city" Legolas said calmly. "We record where they go and when they'll return. Once we have a list we can start narrowing it down."

"That could take years" Gandalf said gruffly. "Minas Tirith has an unprecedented amount of traffic, and you've already limited it. Any more and your trade will suffer."

"What will a magical signature tell us in any case?" Legolas questioned.

"As long as Yusraa hasn't cast again, I can detect a soul signature in the magical one" Gandalf replied. "Once I have a clear picture of it, I'll be able to identify the perpetrator by sight." He frowned. "If she acts again, I'll have to start over. The problem with Necromancy is that it warps the soul. Each time a spell is cast, it warps the individual in different ways, making them impossible to identify except by their most current magical endeavor."

"Then we should get started right away" I said grimly. "The sooner we begin, the closer we get to-Legolas, what are you eating?"

Caught mid-bite, my lover froze, looking like a deer caught in a torchlight. I couldn't identify it from the distance I was away, but it looked green and yellow.

"It has the smell of avocado and sharp cheddar" Rilien said mildly. He inhaled and made a face. "Oh, and a little bit of shrimp."

"I think you should see a doctor" I muttered. "You're appetite has slid terribly out of line."

"I'm fine" Legolas complained, rolling his eyes. "Just…adventurous."

"You say his eating habits have changed?" Elrond said curiously, suddenly looking intently at Legolas. "How so?"

"He started eating meat a week ago" I replied, and Gandalf's eyebrows disappeared into his hair.

"And you've suffered no ill effects?" the old wizard grumbled.

"What?!-No!" Legolas protested. "I've just…been hungry for certain things."

"You like bacon" I said darkly.

"It's unprecedented for an elf to like bacon" Elrond said, sounding astounded. "If you'd just let me-"

For the moment, our quarrel with Yusraa was forgotten. Gandalf was utterly fascinated by the fact that a member of a solidly vegetarian species had abruptly become a carnivore. Elrond insisted that he examine Legolas right there, right then. Both men clamored with each other as their rising excitement clashed with differing professional interests. I desperately tried to keep the peace, cajoling my love, who was looking increasingly thunderous, and begging the differing involved parties to just be quiet for a second. It wasn't until Legolas threw an outright tantrum, refused to be examined, and left the garden in a glorious elvish huff that anyone regained any semblance of sanity. It was then that I noticed Rilien. He was sitting where Legolas had left him, at the foot of the chair, but he was looking to the way Legolas had gone and unaware of that fact he was being watched. On his face was a vicious, unadulterated look of boiling, ravenous hate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **General Translations:**
> 
> Mellon, sut naa lle umien?-Friend, are you well?
> 
> Ya?-Who?


	38. Nin-Hen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Legolas and Aragorn receive some wondrous news._

"Legolas, I need you to consider what I said about Rilien."

Sighing, I turned from the stack of papers at my desk and looked patiently at Aragorn. We were standing in my office, surrounded by my usual mountain of scrollwork. Aragorn had come up to invite me to lunch, but the conversation had taken a different turn. It was late morning, and though I wasn't feeling particularly hungry, I appreciated any excuse to spend time with my spouse. If I were truthful with myself, I'd say I was feeling rather ill, but I kept it to myself. Aragorn had voiced his concerns regarding my attendant, and while I took everything he said into account, I didn't think there was truly any cause for concern.

"It was just one look, _meleth"_ I murmured. "Surely we can't dismiss someone based on a single passing expression."

"You should have seen it" Aragorn persisted. "It was…abhorrent, Legolas. I've never seen anyone look at another with so much hate."

"I'm his superior" I said wearily, pushing my chair away from the desk. "I suppose he has to hate me a little bit, on principle." I smiled indulgently at my sulking husband. "Don't worry, if he shows any inclination of acting upon his virulent dislike, I shall put him in his place."

"I just worry for you" he said hesitantly, cupping my cheek. "I know you hate it, but I can't help it."

"I won't hold it against you" I teased, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "As long as it doesn't become a point of contention between us."

He laughed and gestured for me to lead the way out of my office. I dismissed the guard at the door, not wanting him to feel obligated to keep watch over an empty room. Aragorn offered his arm and I took it, finding myself needing the support more than I usually did. Along with my strangely altered appetite, I was assaulted with occasional dizziness, and I tired abruptly for seemingly no reason at all. Certain combinations of smells made me deathly ill, and I was uncomfortable and cross at times without cause. Elves do not get sick, so I couldn't brush it off as a passing illness. Aragorn was becoming increasingly worried, though he tried his best not to press me over it. I was slowly resigning myself to the fact that I might have to get Elrond to look over me. Though I couldn't fathom what it could possibly be, I didn't like the idea of feeling so off-kilter for the rest of my days.

A gentle hand at the small of my back pushed me forward, and into Aragorn's office. He'd had a small table set up, and I sank gratefully into the chair provided. To my utmost relief, my husband had taken the care to ask for the mildest of options for our brief repast. There was water with a little bit of lemon alongside some cantaloupe, and what looked like two artfully arranged chicken sandwiches. Someone had rustled up some delicious-looking vanilla wafers from who knows where and I considered skipping the rest of the meal just to eat them. One look at Aragorn told me he wouldn't have it, however, and I pulled a slice of cantaloupe towards me with a feeling of appreciative resignation.

"Faramir tells me the road should be finished by the beginning of fall" I said lightly.

Aragorn, who had been shifting papers in order to pull his chair 'round to the table, looked up and grimaced.

"Yes, well, it's been two weeks and they're only getting started now." He sat down. "Our main concern is crossing over the rivers Eruil, Sirith, and possibly Serni. Bridge-making is never an easy task, and the calculations needed to be done beforehand take time."

"The road passing through Plargir isn't sufficient?"

"It is sufficient" he conceded, picking up his sandwich. "But it is not efficient. Its Eastern detour adds about fifty miles to the journey, whereas a straight path across the rivers is much shorter."

"You're thinking of trade then."

"And travel" he supplied. "There will come a time when I intend to visit as many cities in Gondor as possible. I'd like to think we've established convenient routes to traverse before then."

"I should very much like to see Dol Amroth" I commented.

"You'll forgive me if I am loathe to bring you so close to the sea for quite some time" he said gently.

"Sometimes, I think all the talk about elves and sea-longing is utter rubbish" I replied airily. "I think of the ocean and it makes me nauseous."

"Everything makes you nauseous right now" Aragorn said dryly.

"You do like to tease" I said irritably.

He smirked and returned to his sandwich. I spent a moment debating over whether I should call him out on his haranguing, but decided against it. If I couldn't take a little jesting, I was in no position for pleasant company, and we had so little time to spend together. Brushing aside my disgruntled sensitivities, I reached for another slice of cantaloupe. As the fruit brushed my lips, I was accosted by a wave of nausea that was stronger than anything I'd felt in the previous days. It started in my stomach; with a tightening that was vicious and terrifying, and quickly spread outwards. My mouth began to water and my throat felt suddenly constricted. Vaguely, I heard myself gag and I felt surer than anything that I was going to vomit all over the luncheon if I didn't get up and move away immediately. My chair fell back with a clatter and I stumbled to a water basin near the door to lose what little I had eaten that day. For a moment, I was lost to the sickness; it consumed me and made me incapable of registering anything else. Eventually, I was aware of two cool hands holding my hair back as I heaved helplessly.

After a time, the urge to empty my stomach slowed and stopped. Trembling, I wiped a shaky hand over my mouth before straightening to slump against the wall. Once I had minimally gathered myself, I met Aragorn's worried gaze. His mouth was set in a thin line, one hand still placed supportively under my elbow. I felt suddenly like crying hysterically, which only seemed to bolster his expression of concern. As my shaking subsided, he gently guided me back to my seat, taking care to push any reminders of my ill-fated meal as far away from me as possible. He pulled the chair he had been using around the table to face me; his knees nudging mine. His solemn expression told me there was no room for argument this time, and I hung my head. My lip trembled as his fingers gently cupped my cheek, pushing back the curtain of my hair.

"Legolas" he murmured, and there was such tenderness in his voice that I wanted to weep. "I want you to go back to our rooms and lay down. I am going to fetch Adar, and we will be along to examine you shortly."

"I…I'm sorry" I said brokenly.

"You are not well" he said gently. "I know it's hard for you to accept, but if you don't take care of yourself, it will only get worse." He brought forth a napkin and handed it over to me. "Do you want me to call Rilien?"

"If you don't mind" I replied tiredly. "I don't know if I can make it to our rooms on my own."

A disapproving glint in his eye was the only indication of his displeasure at my choice of company. He called an attendant to fetch Rilien, and set about cleaning up our luncheon without fanfare. My dark-haired accompaniment appeared a few moments later, a delicate expression of concern on his face.

_"Mani marte?"_ he crooned, stroking an errant hand over my head.

"Can you escort Legolas to his rooms?" Aragorn queried, his arms full of tablecloth. "He needs to be examined, I'll be along with Elrond shortly."

"Of course" Rilien purred. "If you'll allow me, your Highness."

I took his proffered arm because I needed it, not because I wanted it. Casting Aragorn a despairing glance, I caught the back-end of his placating smile. Somewhat mollified, I followed my royal attendant into the hallway, where he settled in to a leisurely, surprisingly considerate pace.

"You've been awfully neglectful of me these past few days" Rilien commented as we exited the Agricultural Division.

"I thought it was your job to attend to me" I murmured.

"You haven't called on me" he pouted.

"To be frank, I've been deciding what to do with you" I snapped, feeling irritable.

The stiffening in his shoulders was barely noticeable, but was still there.

"Oh?" he queried. "And what have you puzzled out?"

"You're far too clever for your own good, you're incredibly dangerous should you decide to betray me, and I'm not entirely sure you're sane" I muttered. To my surprise, he threw back his head and laughed, startling nearby passerby. "I don't jest."

"I know you don't" he trilled. "That's possibly the most accurate assessment of my character anyone has come up with to date." He batted his eyelashes. "I'm quite flattered."

"That doesn't make me feel any better" I said crossly. "Just…get me to my rooms."

We made it the rest of the way without speaking. In truth, I had come to rely heavily on Rilien, more than I cared to admit. We constructed political concepts together, and our work was unparalleled. I was careful and insightful, and he was relentless and perceptive. Outside of public affairs, he was a companion and comfort during the long nights that Aragorn was unable to be there. His outrageousness and courtier-like demeanor made him seem non-judgmental and carefree. I could get outrageously drunk in front of him and he wouldn't judge me at all. Not that it was a situation I cared to repeat, but I was still grateful for his discretion. I wasn't sure I trusted him, but I didn't dislike him. Moreover, he was kin to me, and that alone did a world of difference.

Rilien opened the door to the Royal Chambers and allowed me to step through before him. I did so and he swept through behind me, busying himself with turning down the sheets and starting a small fire. It was something a servant could have done, but he preferred to do it himself. Slipping off my shoes, I made short work of ridding myself of the confines of my heavy robe and leaving only my tunic and leggings. I let Rilien prop me up in bed and get me a glass of water but shooed him away to sit in the study so I could close my eyes. I savored the feeling of cool, clean linens for a few moments, pressing my cheek against the fabric before forcing myself to remain awake. As much as I wanted to sleep, I didn't want to have to drag myself back from the edges of unconsciousness to hear what Elrond had to say.

It wasn't long before the lock to our chambers turned again, and I watched as Aragorn and Elrond made their way inside. Aragorn looked desperately worried, though he appeared to be doing his very best to hide it. His foster father was the usual picture of timeless serenity. My husband had his satchel of healing herbs, but otherwise neither of them had thought to bring anything special. Rilien appeared once more to proffer chairs but exited swiftly once his duty was done. It struck me odd that he wouldn't want to snoop around for my examination, but I supposed he thought he could be more useful elsewhere. Elrond took a chair and moved it close to me at the side of the bed, while Aragorn remained standing.

"Estel tells me you've been feeling off lately" he commented, taking my hand without warning and running his fingers just above the tips of my knuckles. "Besides your sudden affinity for all things meat-related."

"I'm sure it's nothing" I replied, shivering as I felt his power brush just above the surface of my skin. "I'm a little tired, I get dizzy occasionally, and different tastes and smells make me nauseous."

"'Nauseous' as in throwing up" Elrond said dryly, and I felt myself turn scarlet. He sat back and looked at me. "You know our kind don't get sick."

"Yes" I whispered.

"In short, if you'll forgive me for summarizing, you feel as if you're falling apart and you are nothing short of terrified."

I stiffened and mouthed helplessly for a second, gripping the sheets. The elder elf held my gaze until I dropped it, covering my face with my hands.

"I don't know what's wrong" I murmured into my fingers. "And, yes, I am scared."

Aragorn made a soft noise of understanding, and his hand came to rest gently upon my shoulder. Elrond was silent for a time, still busy examining my hand with uncanny interest. A warmth had begun to spread from where his fingers touched me; little tendrils of almost-curious heat humming nicely up my arm to the center of my chest. The sensation made me drowsy, though I did my best to stay awake in order to hear his diagnoses, if there was one. Eventually, he had me unlace the front of my tunic so he could stand and lay a hand on my chest. The warmth I had felt in my arm and torso soon spread to encompass my whole body. I knew little of healing magic, as I'd primarily been trained in the arts of war, politics, and courtship. However, I did know that it worked in layers, observing each system of the body and its points of energy. Every few minutes, I received the sensation of Elrond's magic burying itself deeper, working its way into a different functional avenue. Eventually, he appeared to falter, the ghost of a frown appearing over his otherwise placid and concentrated expression. His visage cleared once more, and the searching warmth intensified into a probing heat before it was suddenly gone. The elder elf sat back, and I was surprised to see the ghost of a smile playing about his lips.

"Congratulations" he said quietly.

Aragorn raised an eyebrow and I wondered briefly if he'd lost his mind.

"Is Legolas alright?" my love demanded.

"Quite" Elrond said cheerfully. "His soul is bright and filled with energy." He leaned back, looking quite smug. "As is the other soul within him."

I looked blankly at him, as did my husband. Elrond appeared very close to rolling his eyes in exasperation. Slowly, realization dawned upon me, and I was hit with bewilderment, joy, and panic all at once. I mouthed wordlessly at nothing in particular, still trying to comprehend what had been said to me. It wasn't impossible no. We hadn't taken any measures to prevent it, certainly. I'd never imagined it would happen so soon-that my body would be so receptive to the possibility-normally it took decades.

"Are you saying Legolas is possessed?!" Aragorn demanded.

This broke the awe-struck, disbelieving atmosphere that had surrounded me. Slowly, as if emerging from a dream, I put a hand over my face and began to laugh. This-if anything-appeared to alarm my husband even more. Still, I couldn't stop the relieved, infectious mirth that bubbled up from within my chest from spilling out.

"Your _hervenn_ is _anhen, ionneg_ " Elrond said gently.

Aragorn looked wildly at me.

"I'm pregnant" I chuckled. "Just in case you couldn't translate that in all of your panicking."

Still, my husband seemed at a loss for articulation. I watched as a myriad of expressions passed over his face, and it appeared he could not decide on which one to keep. Idly, I wondered if we should leave him to his thoughts for a while, until he had sorted himself into some semblance of sanity. Elrond was watching his son with an expression that was one part sympathy, and another amused observation. Plucking at the sheets, I wondered if this was every husband's reaction to the knowledge that they were going to be a father.

"Are you sure?" Aragorn said quietly, breaking his stunned silence.

"Yes" Elrond said calmly.

"I thought this wouldn't happen for years" my husband pressed. "Thranduil explained-"

"-Thranduil was basing his speculations off his knowledge of other male Sindar who have had the Gift. However, all of those others had elven mates, not human ones. Elves are not known to be unduly fertile, especially since the rise of Darkness. So it makes sense that those elves who bore children had few. However you, Aragorn, are Human and very fertile. It was only a matter of time before your seed took."

"You're not…unhappy, are you?" I asked tentatively.

Aragorn, who appeared to have sunk back down into his thoughts while Elrond spoke, startled.

"No" he breathed, reaching out to clutch my hand. "No, I'm happy, so happy."

"But…" I prompted gently.

He hesitated, seemingly at odds with himself.

"I wish we knew where Yusraa was" he said, and a note of hopelessness crept into his voice. "The stakes are even higher now."

"Not if she doesn't know" Elrond pointed out.

"Who can we tell?" I asked. "Can I tell my father?"

"Yes" Elrond said slowly. "Tell your father. In fact, I think it would be better if he were here. There are things he knows about the Gift that even I am not privy to. Send a messenger out as soon as you can."

"We should tell Gandalf as well" Aragorn supplied, shifting so he could sit next to me on the bed. "He'll have suspected it in any case." He frowned, and then shot me an apprehensive look. "I…don't think we should tell Rilien."

I sighed exasperatedly.

"Why ever not?"

Gently, the dark-haired man took my hands.

"I'm not saying this to be cruel" he said gently. "I want to protect you, and our child, to the best of my ability. Rilien can't help with this. There's nothing he knows that my father, your father, or Gandalf can't supply." He bit his lip, and his eyes swept my face. "I'm not telling Faramir" he chided. "And he's my most trusted Advisor. If you do this for me, I promise everything will work out in the end."

"And what happens when I start to show?" I demanded. "Do we tell them that I've been raiding the kitchens day and night with not a care to my physique or well-being?"

Elrond chuckled.

"I think that is something you should worry about when it happens" he said gently. "You are about four weeks along, and you have about five months more 'till you have to worry about adjusting your clothes."

"Five months!" I gasped. "How long am I going to carry?"

"Feasibly, a year" Elrond said dryly. "Aragon may be human, but you are still an elf, with elven physiology. Elleths carry for a year, so I think I can safely say you will do the same." He smiled at my horrified expression. "You have to think of it this way; elves grow more slowly than men. It takes nine months for a human fetus to gestate, but three months more for an elf, due to their slower growth."

"Anything could happen during that time" Aragorn said, sounding rather desperate.

"You didn't do anything to prevent it, and now you must face it" Elrond said, sounding stern for the first time. "I suggest secrecy and discretion up until the point that you can hide it no longer." He put a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Children are gifts from Illuvatar, young one. Soon, you will find out how great that gift can be. I'll leave you to each other now, I imagine you both have much you want to discuss."

He saw himself out, and I watched as Aragorn moved to slide the lock into place behind him. He then turned and observed me through hooded eyes. I was suddenly nervous and apprehensive, though I couldn't say why. I felt that I was at once utterly vulnerable yet incomprehensibly protective. I smiled tentatively, and my husband returned the gesture. A small knot of anxiety loosened as he hoisted himself onto the bed next to me, grasping my chin and pulling me in for a kiss. His other hand burrowed under the covers to creep under my tunic, resting almost hesitantly on my stomach. I covered his fingers with my own and let my eyes drift shut. It was a moment that didn't require words; intimate in its own eloquent fashion, without the need for conversation. Aragorn took a deep shuddering breath and I pretended not to notice as he swiped at his eyes in a very obvious but absolutely endearing manner.

_"Amin mela lle"_ he whispered, his breath tickling the apex between my neck and collarbone.

"It's…strange" I laughed, and he raised a humorous brow. "To think that I can…that I might." I trailed off, but he seemed to understand. "You musn't get all fussy" I teased.

"It's far too late for that" he said dryly. "I'm already thinking up plans for you to work from the Tower."

"Oh, don't do that" I groaned. "I'm not an invalid. Exercise will do me good. Elrond would tell you that."

"I could lock you in here" he said in mock consternation.

"And I should be very cross if you did" I murmured, turning to thread my fingers through the lacings in his tunic. "Speaking of exercise…"

He laughed and pushed me down into the pillows-gently of course-and we forgot the world for a time. I was indescribably happy; a year seemed almost too long to wait. Still, I was grateful for the time to prepare. A child was both a blessing and responsibility, and I was both excited and apprehensive. Yusraa was presumably still alive and actively among us, but it was hard to think of such things in the face of such joy. The miniscule, precious life within me held far more prominence than the seething maleficence of an insane arachnid.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It turned out that Aragon needn't have bothered about fussing. As soon as word reached my father, he wrote back informing us that he was mustering a company as he wrote and would be at the gates of the White City within a week and a half. He sent me a list of herbal remedies to help with my nausea along with several more that appeared to be rudimentary supplements. He was quite frantic about the fact that I should be kept warm and dry; though I had gave no indication of cavorting in puddles or hanging about cold dungeons. He was also insistent that I avoid anything alcoholic, though I had been unable to so much look at a glass of wine without becoming violently ill. By the time I had finished my father's missive, I was rather dreading his arrival. I had the distinct impression he would like to put me in a padded cell until I gave birth.

Gandalf seemed appalled that we had taken no measures to prevent against such happenings. By the time he was done chastising us for our foolishness my ears were burning. He was still scouring Pelennor Fields for traces of Yusraa's magic, and each time he was unsuccessful we were reminded of how formidable an enemy we faced. In truth, he seemed rather terrified at the idea of having to protect a being no bigger than a grain of rice. Three days following our dire scolding I found a mountain of infant-related gifts piled just inside the doors to the Royal Suite. They included 'fireworks' of a type that didn't burn hot but were strangely fuzzy to the touch and exploded into pink and blue butterflies. I didn't hold anything against the old wizard after that.

Along with his other duties, Aragorn was suddenly finding himself accosted by Elrond at all hours of the day and night. The old elf seemed Valinor-bent on teaching him the rites and respects of fatherhood before he could even hear its heartbeat. I caught them ritually reassembling and dissembling a bassinet with such fierce expressions of concentration I nearly collapsed with laughter. I felt rather sorry for my husband, but all it was far too funny for me to put an immediate stop to it. In truth, we had far more time than any of them were acting like we had. But I guessed the novelty of it would wear off after a week or so, and I let them have their fun.

Rilien seemed to know something was different but didn't comment on it. Instead he opted to drag me through eighteen agricultural missives while I was practically bed-ridden with morning sickness. Something in me whispered that he had known the truth of my condition far sooner than any of us, but chose to ignore in favor of being as obnoxious as possible. I guessed that he very much hated being out of the loop, but couldn't confront me directly out of some snotty sense of superiority. He was-quite frankly-crossing lines from being a tolerable pest to being utterly nasty, and I often found his attitude to be childish and dispassionate. I considered dismissing him several times, but each time I did he would do something so offputtingly considerate I ended up throwing all my misgivings out the window. It was during such a time that something changed that was pivotal in our search for Yusraa.

I had just finished bathing for the night, having resigned myself to an evening without my husband. He was caught up in a trade negotiation with Harondor, and I didn't expect to see him until late the next day. Toweling myself off, I dropped my towel on the floor next to the bath, and made my way to the dresser to find a light sleeping tunic. A noise at the entrance to the rooms gave me pause, and I turned to see Rilien slip in the door and lock it behind him. I quelled the exposed and uncomfortable feeling that rose within me, preferring to turn to the side and meet his gaze with an expression of detached disinterest. He held a flask in his hand of what appeared to be oil, and a towel in the other. On his face was his usual cynical smirk, but with a depth I didn't understand and wasn't sure that I liked.

"In my mother's courts" he began airily, stepping forward. "We were taught to both command and serve." He brushed the bright yellow sleeve of his flamboyant robe to the side. On his wrist was a brand that looked ugly, even though it was obviously old. It was in the shape of what might have been a figure eight; if it had not been so long and distorted. "This is the symbol _uir_ …it means eternity. I am taught to understand the niceties of all things, both professional and subservient." He lifted the flask of oil in indication. "I was once told by the palace guard I had the finest hands for massage in all of Beleriand." He blinked sleepily at me. "I wondered if you might allow me to demonstrate those skills."

A strange, lightheadedness had overcome me. If I'd not been tired, and in a frame of mind for riddles, I might have recognized the subtle spell he'd attached to the ends of his sentences. Instead I was incurably distracted by the deep temptation a chance to relax offered me. A memory I had thought deeply buried rose to greet my weary eyes; of my Naneth rubbing sunflower oil into my shoulders when I was barely more than a babe. I felt a deep, sorrowful sense of nostalgia that left me weak and suggestion-prone. Almost unconsciously, I inclined my head in assent, turning to lie down on my stomach on the mattress. I felt rather than saw the triumphant expression on his face, and for a moment I almost came to my senses and got up. Then the towel he had been holding was laid down to cover the lower half of my body, and I felt myself relax under the false sense of propriety he had imbued with the simple gesture.

Rilien had not been lying when he said he was masterful. Almost instantly, I felt myself relax. The oil had been warmed just enough that it left no ghosting sense of coolness over my skin as his hands worked my shoulders. It left a deep, desperately relieved feeling in its wake; almost to the point of numbness. My back hurt terribly, and it seemed that he knew exactly where each painful point of pressure could be relieved. Against my will, I felt my eyes slipping; the candles in the room becoming one unified line of glorious glowing gold. He was humming something indistinguishable but unerringly soothing, weaving a web of masterful sloth over me as I felt myself falling into blissful unconsciousness. It wasn't until I was on the very edges of sleep, hanging over the precipice between wakefulness and dreams, that I felt the point of a dagger at the small of my back. I felt a wash of fear fill me as I stiffened, but a part of me knew it was already too late. Rilien's breath ghosted over my ear as he held me, immobile, the tangency of his threat lying heavily on the air.

"I'm going to _gut_ you" he hissed, and I shuddered at the malice in his voice. He licked his lips and continued. "I'm going to put this knife straight through you, and that filthy, ill-gotten spawn that you bear. And neither your air-headed wizard or your foolish, negligent husband can do anything about it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title Translation:**  
>  nin-hen-my child
> 
> **General Translations:**  
>  hervenn-husband  
> anhen-with child  
> mani marte-what's wrong?
> 
> Leaving it here with my terrible affinity for cliffhangers! Forgive me!


	39. Utinu Ena Lhing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Legolas' strife continues; we gain some insight into Rilien's past._

If anything saved me that night, it was the fact that once the cat has the mouse, they are predisposed to play. Rilien had the doors locked, and had more than likely sent the guards away. Even if he hadn't, I was sure that if I tried to raise the alarm, he would run me through without second's hesitation. He had no reason to suspect that anyone would come to assure themselves of my well-being until the next day. I was unarmed, partially unconscious with whatever spell he had used, and in a compromising physical position that guaranteed my death should I make any sudden movements. A single inward and upward-angled thrust would rip a hole in several vital organs. I would bleed out within a matter of minutes, and there was not a damn thing I could do about it.

"Aren't you going to try to negotiate with me?" Rilien sneered, twirling the hilt of the blade against my back. "I know you know how to be diplomatic."

I swallowed and tried to still the frantic beating of my heart. It was hard, but I pulled myself together enough to articulate a steady and rational response.

"I'm not that foolish."

He chuckled, and the knife-point left the small of my back to trace the curve of my shoulder blade.

"You really should have listened to your husband" he said conversationally. "I was rather afraid he would see through me straight from the beginning, but he let it go on long enough for you to give me the benefit of the doubt." I winced as he applied pressure, and let my breath escape in a hiss through my teeth as I felt a warm runnel of blood run down the length of my arm. "You dismissed his doubts because we are kin, but you really should have known better."

"What are you?" I muttered. "Are you Yusraa?"

He laughed delightedly and lifted the blade, bringing it down again on my spine, and I forced myself to concentrate through the pain.

"Child, if I was Yusraa, your limbs would be strewn from one end of this room to the other by now." His hand made a circular movement, and he sighed delightedly. "No, my Naneth has something I very much want; and unfortunately, your demise is required in order for me to get it." He clucked his tongue in mock-consideration. "Shame, really. I was really beginning to like you."

"I trusted you" I snapped, rage creeping into my tone for the first time. "I vouched for you."

His hand faltered and I did not miss it, it gave me some small semblance of hope.

"Yes, you did" he said, and there was a pensive note in his voice. "How foolish of you."

"I could help you" I said desperately. "Whatever hold she has over you…we'll help you."

He faltered again, and then cursed. I could not help the cry of pain that escaped my lips as the knife came down hard; scoring a blazing trail of agony from my shoulder to my hip.

"Don't presume to bargain with me" he snarled. "You have no idea what you're up against, you stupid boy."

Against my better judgement, I found myself laughing at the absurdity of his statement. My back was on fire, and I was half-blind with pain and fear. But I hadn't been called a 'boy' in thousands of years, and had begun to suspect that Rilien wasn't going to follow through with his threat. Oh, he could slash me to ribbons, to be sure. But something was stopping him from delivering the killing blow.

"You said Yusraa is your Naneth" I gasped through my hysterical laughter. "What did she do? Threaten to spank you into oblivion 'lest you run me through? What a terrible disappointment you must be."

To be fair, it was probably the stupidest thing I had said yet. I felt Rilien's rage encompass him, grasping him by the throat. At the same time, I understood how incredibly desperate he was. Yusraa had a vicious hold over him, though I couldn't say what it was. He'd probably been ordered around his entire life, brought up on the insidious definitions of Dark politics. A part of him knew nothing but desperation, hunger, and the constant need to rise through the ranks in order to remain relevant. His nature was a farce; covering up someone incredibly vulnerable and starved for any form of affection. As I felt his arm arch upwards to deliver the killing blow, I felt desperately sorry for him.

Unfortunately for Rilien, his time to do his mother's bidding had run out. The door to the Royal Suite crashed inwards; spraying splinters of wood every which way. There was a terrible yell and a flash of bright light; Rilien was thrown off me by some unseen force. He crashed into the vanity and it shattered, splinters of glass forcing their way into his face and arms. A veritable army of guards surrounded him soon after, forcing him to his knees with unmerciful violence. A great sense of weight was lifted from me, and I recognized it as the remnants of whatever enchantment had been put on me. I was suddenly more alert, and felt greatly present.

"Legolas!"

Aragorn sounded practically hysterical. I imagine I made for a terrible sight. Rilien hadn't cut particularly deep, but he'd done enough that my back was a bloody mess. Whatever oil he had used had numbed my pain significantly, and I hoped it wasn't more serious than it looked. I flinched as the towel that had been used to cover me was ripped away to be pressed against the cuts. My husband's face was a mess of guilt, fear, and rage. Occasionally, he shot a glance at the guard-covered mass that was Rilien. The look on his face during those times was so dark I found myself looking for ways to keep him from doing something utterly stupid. Gathering what little strength I had left, I rolled on to my side and reached for my robe. I winced as the fabric dragged against my braised skin, but managed to get it on.

"Take him to the dungeons" I said to Gandalf, who was standing next to the door. "We need to question him."

Rilien, who was half-unconscious from the guards' handling, gave no protest as the old wizard took him roughly by the scruff of his neck. I watched wearily as they disappeared from the room, trying to keep a semblance of face until they rounded the corner in the hall and vanished from sight. I gave a great gasp and slumped against the bedpost, steadied by Aragorn, who was still looking worriedly thunderous. Placing a hand over my belly, I was relieved to feel the small answering spark that told me our little one was still alive and well. I let my husband lead me to the bath, where he proceeded to fill it himself and help me in. I was feeling decidedly exhausted, and I trembled as he washed me; both relieved and apprehensive at the same time. I was half expecting him to scold me, but he didn't. Instead, his touches were gentle, almost apologetic in their nature.

"He didn't cut you very deeply" he murmured after some time. I made a small sound of agreement, tilting my head back so he could wash my neck. "I don't suppose he gave you a reason?"

"Yusraa is his mother" I replied, my voice hoarse. "She has something of his that he desperately wants, and in order to get it, he was ordered to kill me."

"But he didn't" Aragorn said slowly. "Gandalf felt him use his magic, and we were sure by the time we got to you it would be too late."

"I don't think he would have done it" I replied, swaying slightly. "I angered him at the end, but he toyed with me too long." I took a deep shuddering breath. "Rilien is older than me, but mentally, he's a child. I expect he is the youngest of many, and has been shunted and pushed to the side, taught in the mechanisms of court but never particularly useful. It would not surprise me if his father was in league with Melkor, and that he's spent his entire life trying to be noticed."

"You want to question him" Aragorn pressed.

"I think we would be foolish not to" I said wryly. "I don't think he's a lost cause."

"I'd like to execute him" Aragorn said lightly, as if we were speaking of the weather. "But I see the logic in questioning him. I think you're utterly daft for seeing something good in him."

He helped me out of the bath and toweled me off. I watched from the edge of the bed as he went to fetch some healing salve from his satchel.

"As an elf" I began slowly. "I can tell when someone is intrinsically evil. I could feel Yusraa when she walked into the room; her darkness was suffocating. Rilien doesn't feel dark…he feels sick."

"And you want to help him" my husband murmured as he administered the salve. "Forgive me if I don't share your sympathies." His hands faltered as he came to the circular pattern on my back. "I'm…so sorry I wasn't here." His voice broke at the end of his sentence. "I should never have left you alone."

_"Ai meleth"_ I replied, drawing my tunic over my shoulders. "There's nothing you could have done to prevent it. It's happened, and now I think we can use it to our advantage."

"If Rilien really is the cast-out, runt of the litter you say he is, Yusraa won't go out of her way to ensure his well-being" my love replied, turning to get himself ready for bed. "If anything, she'll kill him when we're not looking so he doesn't give us any vital information."

"If we can find out what Yusraa holds over him to ensure his loyalty, we might be able to sway him to our cause" I countered.

"There's another truth we have to consider" Aragorn said dryly, and I raised a brow. "He's utterly, completely insane and the 'fixation' Yusraa holds over him is merely an illusion to keep him from being out of her control."

"We can speculate all night" I commented, sliding under the sheets. "But the only way to get a straight answer is to ask Rilien himself, and I'm too tired to do that right now. He's likely terrified of the consequences of his failure, and blames us for the demise of his mechanisms."

"I'll ask Gandalf to put a magical ward on his cell" my husband muttered, as if it pained him to do it. "I wouldn't feel sorry if Yusraa killed him, but I agree that the information he might give could be pivotal." He gave me a stern look. "Don't expect me to give him preferential treatment because you feel sorry for him."

"You think I'm not upset" I said gently. "But I am. I'm hurt, I feel betrayed and violated. I considered Rilien a friend, however strange his behavior. I'm angry, but if I let it consume me, I can't concentrate on the bigger picture."

We spoke no more of it after that. I was tired, injured, and upset. I slept terribly, despite the painstaking care Aragorn had taken to clean and cover my wounds. The aftereffects of Rilien's spell plagued my dreams, and I was accosted with terrible nightmares. Three times, I awoke to Aragon crooning gently to me, drenched in a thin sheen of icy sweat. Sometime very early the next morning, I was accosted with morning sickness like I'd never felt it before. My defenses were low due to the less-than-ideal state of my body, and I spent much of the morning in a crumpled heap next to the garderobe.

By the time I had pulled myself together enough to leave the Royal Suite, it was near midday. News of the attack had been kept within strict circles, so there was no crowd to gawp at the injured Consort as I made my way to the first circle, and from there to the dungeons. I was distinctly aware of the lack of Rilien's social presence, even though it was him I was going to see. Aragorn had wanted to come, but had agreed that it was probably for the best that he stayed away. He had never had any great love for the dark-haired elf, and neither of us thought he would be forthcoming in the presence of the King. Gandalf met me outside the doors to the high security hold, and I could tell at first glance that he was indescribably weary. Despite the fact that he'd put up protective wards, he'd taken it upon himself to guard my former chief advisor the entire night.

"He hasn't said anything" the old wizard said gruffly. "And I haven't deigned to ask, I don't think I have any more a chance of getting anything out of him than you do."

He positioned himself outside the door as I went inside, and I was comforted by the knowledge that he was within shouting distance should I need him. The inside of the high security sector is circular in shape, and the walls are carved directly from the roots of Mindolluin itself. There are six cells in total, and the bars are fashioned with iron and steel. Currently, only one of them was occupied, and Gandalf's wards shimmered ominously in the low torchlight; outlining each slat in a blinding silver glow. Rilien did not look at me as I entered, preferring to stare blankly at the wall ahead of him, his arms wrapped around his knees. The guard had done a great amount of damage, and there were crimson splotches in his gaudy robe and streaks of blood on the floor. I didn't feel any particular sense of sympathy, only a resigned sadness. Settling myself on the small wooden stool provided, I let my thoughts gather for a while before deigning to speak.

"You should know that the sentence for attacking a member of the Royal Family is death." He didn't reply, but I didn't really expect him to. "I can't pretend to expect you to tell me anything, but it might benefit you if you did."

The silence that stretched between us was bitter. Inwardly, I was fighting against a sense of justification, and a feeling of terrible uncertainty. I didn't want to see him dead, but I hated him for threatening my child. I didn't really know anything about him, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to. It was far more comfortable to despise him at a distance, than to understand what lay beneath his cruelty and manipulation. The wounds throbbing at my back were a constant reminder of how foolish I was being. My father had taught me to be strong and unforgiving, but I didn't want to be him, I wanted to be merciful.

"I am the last of ten" Rilien said, just when I had convinced myself that I should leave. I looked steadily at him, but he still wouldn't meet my eyes. "My father…was a powerful man, and my mother was a monster. We were raised in the heart of Beleriand, away from the prying eyes of the rest of Middle Earth. Many of my mother's kin went South, but she did not. She was my grandmother's favorite, and they were always close to one another." He shifted, and ran a battered hand through his hair. "When I was a babe, Ungoliant took me from my cradle and branded me with the uir" his fingers circled the mark on his wrist. "I was the last, and therefore the least, so I learned to serve." He shuddered. "My father's court was a terrible place. I was brought up to learn to usurp and conquer; to manipulate the niceties of servitude in order to rise through the ranks. My siblings slaughtered each other, all in the name of heredity and status. My brother tore my sister in half so he could lay claim to her lands and titles. I stayed quiet and tried to keep out of the way, as long as I was surviving, I was doing smashingly." His lips curled into a sneer. "Then my father left, and my mother left us to care for one another while she hunted him down. Beleriand had long since drowned, and we lived in the jungles of Far-Harad. There were five of us left, and my brother, Morfindien, decided it was time for there only to be one. He picked us off one by one, 'till I was the only one left." Rilien swallowed and a dark light seemed to burn in his eyes. "I tricked him. I invited him to drink with me, until he could barely stand let alone kill me. Then I slit his throat." He took a great gasping breath. "My mother came back, dragging the head of my father, and saw what had been done. She thought I killed them all, so she made me her heir. I ruled over the South, while she continued her subtle mechanisms wherever she wished."

"What changed?" I said softly, and his head jerked at my interruption.

"I fell in love" he said harshly. "With an elf my mother took prisoner. Every day, I went to visit her where she was kept. Eventually, we came to love each other, and I bribed the guard to look the other way for a night." He looked faintly sick. "She became pregnant with my child. We tried to hide it, but mother found out. Once she gave birth, Yusraa killed her, and took my son. She told me I could have him back, if I killed you." He laughed bitterly. "And now I have failed, and I will never see him."

I was silent, a sour taste in my mouth.

"What was her name?" I asked quietly.

"Alassea" he said quietly.

"And your son?"

"We never named him" Rilien replied. "Yusraa killed his mother before she had a chance to christen him, and I've never laid eyes on him in my life. I imagine she's named him now, something horrible I suppose." He bared his teeth. "And now you know why I was willing to go so far to guarantee my success. I would die before I willingly abandoned my son, and Yusraa is the only one who knows where he is. I'll see you strung up and dead before I help you. You know nothing of pain."

He fell silent, and his posture suggested that he had reached his limit for conversation. I guessed that I wouldn't get anything more out of him, even if I was rude about it. At once, I was struck by how desperate his situation was. I didn't know if I would have done the same, if such misfortune had fallen upon me, but I could understand why he had done it. I thought of the child within me, and knew that in an instant I would do anything to protect it. I shuddered at the idea of having my own flesh and blood ripped away from me before I'd even had the chance to look into those perfect, innocent eyes. Rilien was dangerously desperate, and I feared what his assumed failure would drive him to do.

Exiting the hold, I drew Gandalf to the side to speak with him. His expression grew evermore grave as I gave him the full account, and when I was finished, he drew out his pipe and did not speak for a long while.

"We still don't know what Rilien is" he said gruffly. "Presumably, his father was an elf, possibly one of the Teleri who was terribly corrupted." He tapped his pipe against his bearded lip. "In any case, if Rilien is telling the truth, he is quite thoroughly dead."

"Yes, beheading can do that to a person" I said dryly.

"Don't come back for a few days" Gandalf continued, and I looked at him questioningly. "He opened up to you because he presumably trusts you to some extent, but now that he has, he will feel weak and defeated for a while. Let him build up his defenses and regain his confidence before you press him again. He will feel more inclined to share with you if he thinks he is in control."

We left the dungeons together after instating a guard, and I was left to wander about the Fifth Circle until I remembered I had paperwork to finish. Usually, it was Rilien who threw page after page of mind-numbing scrollwork at me, and without him I was at a little bit of a loss. Eventually, I set about drawing up plans for an extra farming sect outside the Rammas Echor, and that kept me busy until I realized I was hungry by mid-afternoon. By that time, Aragorn came to find me and we went to lunch together. When I told him everything that Rilien had imparted upon me, he seemed genuinely sorry to hear about his plight. However, he couldn't think of any way to remedy his situation without knowing more about Yusraa.

"Rilien has to know more about Yusraa than all of us combined" he mused, looking over his desk at me.

"But he won't be willing to share unless we can guarantee his son's return" I replied, running a finger along a dent in the woodwork.

"Virtually, he could be anywhere" Aragorn muttered. "And Yusraa doesn't seem the type to cave under pressure. From what you've told me, she doesn't care about anyone in particular at all. Rilien is just a pawn to her. She'd die without revealing the child's location just to spite him."

"Gandalf says I should wait to speak with him again" I muttered.

"Then you should" my husband said gently. "You've done what you can for now. Give it time, then offer him help. Right now, he's confused, and probably scared. He's grown up around cruelty, he knows how merciless Yusraa can be. Moreover, he's broken. He's known nothing but darkness, like you said."

"It was like talking to a different person" I reflected. "All of his flair, all his complexities-"

"-Were a shield" Aragorn said gently. "You don't know him, Legolas. He's veritably a stranger as far as I'm concerned. Until he's willing to divulge more, let's keep our distance." His expression took on a gentler semblance. "How are you, really?"

I grimaced.

"Hurting" I said honestly. "I'm tired of being hunted, and I can't pretend I don't want to be angry." I rubbed an exasperated hand over my face. "However, if I keep harping over this, I'm going to go mad. There are depths to this that I didn't think possible."

It was easier to take things one day at a time. Yusraa would stop at nothing to compromise us, we were sure of that now. She'd used her own son to try and bring me to an early grave. It was a saddening realization. Sometimes the depths to which darkness will sink can surprise even the greatest of us. It was sobering and depressing, though we did our best not to let it depress us. Still, we had a child coming, regardless of the melancholy times; and it brought us no small measure of joy. I suspected that that one small, innocent truth would get us through many hardships in the days to come. There is no blackness that can rival the simplistic purity of a child yet to be born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title Translation**
> 
> Utinu ena lhing-Son of a Spider


	40. Duath-Min

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Thranduil arrives once again in Minas Tirith with a shocking piece of information._

"What do you think of Iorlas?"

I frowned, looking up from the book I was reading. Aragorn smiled and tilted his head, waiting for my answer. We were sitting in our shared study in the Royal Suite. It was mid-morning, and I'd just finished looking over the growth reports from the outlying farms. Aragorn was-supposedly-studying the outlines for a bridge over his ongoing road project. Faramir had sent him the plans that morning, and he seemed to be struggling to concentrate on his work. I couldn't really blame him; it promised to be a beautiful day, and I was sorely tempted by the sunlight that spilled through the windows of our chambers. Every so often, I caught my husband gazing longingly at the soft rays that spilled onto the floor in solar incandescence. He was itching to go for a ride, and I had to admit the idea was tempting.

I hadn't been to visit Rilien. He'd given me much to think about, and I was heeding the advice Gandalf had given me. The book I was reading I'd found in his office, it detailed the Battle of Dagorlad, though I couldn't see any reason Rilien would have had an interest in it. Overall, things had been quiet and it worried me a little, though I tried not to let it bother me. Every so often, I'd catch myself going over a project Rilien and I had created and feel a pang of regret, but I did my best to push through. Aragorn thought I ought to enlist another chief advisor, but it didn't feel right. I worked with others within my division, but I wasn't familiar with them like I'd been with Yusraa's son. They did what I told them to do, and I felt that it was enough. I had an attendant bring me my paperwork, especially when I was feeling sick, but otherwise I managed.

Elrond had insisted that he examine me every four weeks, and though we hadn't come to that point yet, Aragorn had convinced me to have a check-up a few days after the attack. His foster father reassured us that the child was well, and that my body was adjusting to the pregnancy magnificently. I was still accosted with morning sickness every so often, but less frequently than before. Elrond assured me that it would go away within a few months, and I was looking forward to it. I was expecting my father any day, and I was sure that he would only add to the list of self-care that had been set up for me. While I was grateful for the care I'd been given, it was occasionally smothering. There was a myriad of things I wasn't allowed to do anymore, and it bothered me.

"For what?" I queried. "Surely not for the name of the bridge?"

Aragorn rolled his eyes and pushed his papers to the side.

"No, _meleth_ , for our child."

I frowned and worried my lip.

"It's a little common isn't it?"

He sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"Did you have something in mind?"

"What about Sidhion?"

He thought for a moment.

"It has a good meaning" he said slowly. "But I think the pronunciation is a bit harsh."

"You forget that we might have a girl" I said gently.

He smiled tenderly, and rose to cross the study to kneel next to my chair. I lowered my book as he took my unoccupied hand and pressed it to his lips.

"Whether a boy a girl, I know they will be beautiful, with you as their bearer."

"You do love to flatter me" I teased, carding my fingers through his hair.

"I think I'd be very foolish to insult you" he said with mock-seriousness. "Especially considering your…condition."

"Have you quite finished looking over those plans?" I asked, nodding to the pile of papers on his desk. "I've got a mind to spend some time outside today."

He cast a rueful glance at the direction I had indicated and grimaced.

"I'm afraid I'm finding it hard to concentrate" he muttered. "When I woke up this morning, I was in no mood to work."

"Being King does have its advantages" I murmured, and he raised a brow. "You can take the day off whenever you wish."

He smirked.

"On any other day, I might disagree with you" he remarked, getting to his feet. "But today, I think I'll simply take advantage of that statement."

I shut my book and stood as well, preferring to tag along slightly behind my spouse. He kept a fairly steady pace down and out of the tower, and paused to take my arm before we entered the Sixth Tier. Eowyn paused to greet us as we passed by the Healing Houses, and we stop to inquire after her well-being. Despite it being long since she had been so fiercely jealous of us, Aragorn still spoke to her with some measure of restraint. I'd never known him to hold a grudge, but he hadn't told me the full story behind their altercation. I almost dreaded to hear it, seeing how he continued to resent her. If I didn't know my love so well, I wouldn't have been able to tell that anything was amiss. But I did, and it bothered me. There was the subtle flare of his eyes, and the tenseness in his jaw; his fingers curled ever-so-slightly and he never looked directly at Eowyn. Rather, he preferred to gaze a little bit to the right or left, just over her shoulder.

" _Meleth_ , can't you…bury the hatchet, so to speak?" I murmured as we watched her walk away.

Aragorn looked confused for a moment, before comprehension dawned on his face. He sighed, and looked embarrassed for a minute.

"I'm trying" he replied. "It's very hard, for more reasons than you know."

"Won't you tell me?" I pressed. "Perhaps if you share it with me, you might feel less burdened by it."

He hesitated and appeared to deliberate before urging me to walk again. We had made our way around the Healing Houses to the gardens I so loved, and I looked fondly on the bobbing fronds of what would soon be magnificent tomatoes.

"Eowyn saw us, that one night when we spoke in Rohan, on the overpass" Aragorn said quietly. "She came to my rooms the next morning and said she'd write to your father and expose us if I didn't agree to marry her."

"And you thought she'd follow through with it?" I scoffed.

"It was all so new" Aragorn replied. "And I was so afraid for us, for the consequences we might face. We had the quest to focus on, and I didn't like the idea of pulling anything else onto our shoulders before we needed to."

I stooped to worry a weed away from a patch of sage.

"It was a petty thing" I said softly, straightening and tossing the offending plant away. "But that's all it was. Eowyn doesn't strike me as the type to tie herself to someone in a loveless marriage." I let my arm slip and threaded my fingers through his, tugging him over to a square of peppers. "She's grown since then in any case. It hurts me that she would stoop so low in her jealousy, but we can't change what has been done." I smiled gently at him, and gestured to the vegetables. "We have some time, could you help me spread some new soil on these? I'd do it by myself, but it's so much easier with two."

Aragorn's gaze softened, and he assented to my bossy gardening instruction. We tended the peppers, and then moved on to fuss over a happy patch of onions. It was soothing, companionable work. Aragorn knew I loved nature, and he was happy to nurture that passion in any way possible. I'd always thought that I'd feel terribly trapped, behind the walls of his Kingdom, but it was never the case. I was kept busy in numerous ways, and as long as my mind was occupied, I gave little thought to the fact I was surrounded by walls of stone and not towering trees and rushing rivers. Maybe it was strange, for an elf to be so out of his element, but I felt as if I'd been made for the life that was provided to me, and was nothing but content for the fact.

It was well into the afternoon before Faramir finally found us. I was sitting down-at Aragorn's insistence-taking a rest, and my husband was doing battle with a rose bush that had overgrown into some poorly looking cabbages. Our Steward seemed exasperated but not at all surprised that we'd abandoned our work for muddier tasks, and he observed for a moment before coming forward to speak.

"King Thranduil arrived a few minutes ago" he said lightly. "I thought you ought to know as soon as possible."

The reaction to his announcement was instantaneous. Aragorn yelped and dropped his shears, which resulted in him getting smacked in the face with a section of the bush. I shot out of my seat and nearly fell over, but steadied myself on the arm of the chair. Faramir watched in amusement as we attempted to gather our separate bearings, his hands behind his back.

"I should bathe" I muttered, looking helplessly at my hopelessly dirty hands. I cast a despairing glance at Aragorn, who was sporting several patches of mulch on his tunic. Of course, he still managed to look ravishing, but neither of us were happy company when we were messy.

"Do we have time to clean up before he's finished getting settled?" my love queried, wiping his hands fruitlessly on his breeches.

"I daresay you don't" came a smooth voice.

Faramir bowed and left as I ran a horrified hand over my brow as my father swept up to us, looking as regal as ever. Though his travelling robes were dusty, he was a right sight better than we were. His eyes traveled amusedly over my husband before coming to rest on me, where'st his gaze became tender and indulgent.

" _Ionneg_ " he said gently. "You look well."

"Adar" I grumbled. "I am very well, thank you. It is good to see you."

Immediately, Thranduil's gaze snapped back to Aragorn, who paled at his stern countenance.

"And why, pray tell, is my pregnant son out here toiling in the garden?"

The King of Men swallowed nervously, his gaze flitting towards me before returning to my father.

"Legolas enjoys gardening" he began in a cajoling tone that he often used upon me to no avail. "I couldn't refuse him the pleasure of being about in nature when he so loves his work."

The King of The Woodland Realm harrumphed several times before deciding that perhaps the argument wasn't worth pursuing. Instead, he moved forward to kiss me, then took the seat next to me.

"Gandalf sent me a letter explaining your situation with this…Rilien character" he commented. "Honestly Legolas, how could you have been so foolish?"

"Gandalf asked me the same thing" I remarked, shooting my father a dark look. "Are you sure you haven't been speaking in secret?"

"Gandalf and I share the same concerns regarding your safety and well-being" Thranduil said sternly. "You're very vulnerable right now, every risk you take has the potential to affect you exponentially."

"I feel as if I've suddenly turned into a piece of china" I complained. "And everyone wants to put me in a viewing cabinet and never touch me again."

"I don't restrict you" Aragorn pointed out, sounding slightly sulky.

"No, you don't, but I imagine that will change when I begin to show. I don't think it's quite settled in with you yet, it normally doesn't for the fathers."

"-I'm very curious to meet this Rilien" Thranduil interrupted.

I looked shrewdly at him.

"Adar, you'll forgive me if I say I'm afraid of what you will do to him should you ever meet face to face."

"Please give me more credit than that" he scoffed. "No, I think I may know something of his son."

There was a shocked silence between us. Aragorn and I exchanged nervous looks.

"…You know where he is?" I said slowly. "I don't understand."

"If I'm not mistaken, he's a member of my courts" Thranduil said pleasantly. "He has been for some time."

"What proof do you have?" Aragorn demanded. "How do you know the one you speak of is indeed Rilien's son?"

"For one, he has on several occasions mentioned being privy to a higher power" Thranduil said dryly. "I came across him perhaps a thousand years previous. He's practically insane, but I deemed it best to take him in. I've never trusted him, but he's been useful, much like your Rilien. I imagine he's been raised in much the same way."

"But why would Yusraa place him somewhere where he could so easily be found?" I demanded. "And why by you?"

Thranduil sighed.

"You all construe Yusraa to be a very clever, very dangerous scion of Darkness, but I think it is much simpler than that. This particular elf's name is Morohtar." He gave me a pointed look. "You know him."

I felt a chill go down my spine.

"I thought you'd locked him up" I said darkly.

Aragorn was looking between us with an expression of confusion.

"I'm missing something" he said blandly. "Someone explain."

I took a deep breath.

"Morohtar came back with my father after a long scouting trip" I began. "We didn't know where he was from, but he was seeking refuge, and it's nearly unheard of for elves to turn away what they perceive as their own kind." I fidgeted. "All seemed fine at first. Morohtar was especially skilled in combat. He outshot me several times, and you know that's saying something. Like Rilien, he was a master diplomat, and he helped us with the affairs of the palace along with its defense." I grimaced. "He was friendly towards me…but soon he became too friendly. His advances were aggressive, pointed, and for a purpose that couldn't have been further from love and affection. When I didn't accept him, he tried to kill me, so Adar had him locked up." I ran a hand over my brow. "It makes sense, what you're saying" I said to Thranduil. "If I'd have married him, Yusraa would have eliminated the threat to her power, and tied herself to one of the most powerful ruling lineages within Middle Earth by blood."

"Technically" Aragorn said slowly. "If I had then married Arwen, she would have been the threat, not you."

"I'm beginning to suspect that if you had married Arwen, we wouldn't be in this mess" Thranduil said calmly, and my husband winced. "Arwen would have chosen mortality, and your child would be fully mortal, thus destroying the proclivity of the prophecy. Yusraa knew something we didn't. She put the pieces together before we did, and thought she could act first." He smiled wryly. "The only problem was she brought Morohtar up to be a monster, not a lover. And I raised Legolas to follow his heart, not to be swayed by petty flattery."

"I still don't understand how you've come to conclusion he is Rilien's son" Aragorn pointed out.

"Because like Rilien, he popped up from nothing with one aim; Legolas. His mannerisms are almost identical to what you've described of his father, as he's likely been coached by the same person."

"Poor Rilien" I murmured, and the other two looked at me in incredulity. I shrugged helplessly. "This is a mess" I said quietly. "We don't know what Yusraa's been feeding Morohtar. He's young enough that he hasn't had any means or need to escape the clutches of her corruption. Most likely, she's pitted him against his father for her own convenience, so if they do meet, they should never truly be together. Rilien gave me the impression that his son was very young, but he's not, and he's very likely set in his ways." I looked sharply at my father. "He's still in the dungeons?"

"Yes" Thranduil said bitterly. "He knew too much about us for me to let him wander, and he made it clear should I ever think softly of him I would regret it."

"I think your best course of action would be to explain this to Rilien"" Aragorn said darkly. "Immediately. The longer we wait, the more we risk Yusraa whisking him away and feeding him a story of us keeping his son prisoner for centuries."

"What's more likely is Yusraa has no true idea where he is" Thranduil said wearily. "He likely reported to her when he was freely wandering Mirkwood, but now it'll seem as if he's dropped off the map."

"So really, it was our wedding that forced Yusrsaa's hand" I mused. "Once she knew Morohtar had no chance, she took action. And when that didn't work she gave Rilien an empty promise and sent him."

"And now what…now that Rilien has failed?" Aragorn murmured.

We were silent after that, each of us lost in our own separate thoughts. I shuddered to think how close Yusraa had been to eliminating me before Aragorn and I had even known each other. The problem with immortality is that our deeds stretch centuries, and mechanisms take a long time to fall into place. I wondered what had tipped Yusraa off to the fact that I was a threat so long ago. It all seemed like so much trouble to go through, just to keep command of an army of dead, who could only do your bidding for a short while before being exhausted. Still, I supposed pettier things had been coveted, like Rings of Power. I couldn't imagine having so much hatred for all things beautiful that I would feel the constant need to take it out on the world. It seemed an exhausting fruitless task for a thankless future.

"You look very pensive Ionneg" my father said gently.

"He gets dreamy like that these days" Aragorn said affectionately. "I think it's rather adorable."

"When his Naneth was in her last months, before Legolas was born, I thought she was ever in another place" Thranduil chuckled. "Sometimes, it would drive me utterly mad."

"I was thinking" I said defensively. "But what do we do now?"

My father looked at me for a long moment, as if considering his words.

"I think Aragorn is right. You should tell Rilien of our findings. Far worse could happen should Yusraa find out we have his son."

"I can go see him now" I supplied wearily. "We might as well not waste time."

Aragorn eyed me shrewdly.

"You're tired, meleth" he murmured.

"Go rest" Thranduil said sternly. "Tomorrow you can share your news with the prisoner."

We talked for a while longer; our conversation shifting from Yusraa, Rilien, and Morohtar to politics. A servant came to bring us drinks and soon after I found myself drowsing while my father and Aragorn carried an intense debate over long-distance trade. I eventually excused myself and went back to the Tower to bathe, enlisting two guards to assure Aragorn of my well-being. Once I was washed and re-dressed, I made my way down to the dungeons. I knew that my husband wouldn't approve, but I felt it urgent that Rilien know as soon as possible. A part of me wanted desperately to force the good in my former companion's heart to come to the surface, permanently.

He didn't greet me, but I wasn't particularly expecting him to. He looked a sight worse for wear, and I pushed the nagging feeling of guilt I had to the side. He took the news about as well as I had expected. There was a lot of shouting, but I rode it out. If I was in his position, I suppose I would have felt like shouting too. When he was done, he slumped into a corner of his cell and didn't move. Rilien's confusion and self-loathing was palpable, it was nearly suffocating to be around someone with so much despair. He'd been manipulated and lied to. Worse, nothing fruitful would come of his efforts.

"If you really want to help, you could tell us what Yusraa's weakness is" I said after a time.

He laughed coldly, and I shivered at the hollow, lifeless tone in his voice.

"Do you think she'd really be so foolish as to tell me what can bring her down?" he said in a choked voice. "I am a crutch to her, nothing more. My mother has no confidants. Her strengths and weaknesses are her own, and she shares them with no one."

"Why were you reading the book on the Battle of Dagorlad?" I pressed. "I found it in your office."

His fingers curled in the stained yellow brilliance of his robe. He seemed to deliberate before spitting out his response.

"Yusraa gathers her power from the Dead Marshes. I may not know her weakness, but if you take away the source of her power, she'll be forced to look for it somewhere else. The last attack, on Pelennor Fields greatly drained her reserves. You have about nine months before she will be a considerable threat again." He rubbed a hand over his face. "If we can clean up the Marshes, it might be longer."

"So you sought to protect me" I whispered.

"I sought nothing" he spat. "You know hardly anything of what you face, and nor do I."

"Your son might know."

His gaze wavered, and for a moment, he looked truly hysterical. It passed however, and was instead replaced by the familiar emptiness that seemed to surround him constantly.

"My son" he muttered. "You mean the one that she's brought up to walk in her ways, with probably only the briefest and most hateful of mentions of me?" He sneered. "The one who your father has locked up in your dungeons for failing to do as I did? No, if she wouldn't share her secrets with me, she wouldn't be any more inclined to tell them to my _spawn_ " he spat the last word like a curse.

"I want to help you" I said bitterly. "But you're making it very difficult."

"You'll forgive me if I'd rather not ally myself with someone so stupidly naive" he growled. "I'm your would-be murderer, unless you've forgotten."

"I don't think you would have done it" I said softly, and his head jerked in a noncommittal gesture. "I think you knew Yusraa had played you for a fool from the start." I stood, and took a moment to steady myself. "If I knew I could trust you, I'd have you out of this cell and reinstated as my Chief Advisor tonight" I said calmly. "But I don't. I think you need help and healing, of the sort that I cannot give."

I moved to exit, feeling suddenly exhausted. I had an angry husband and father to face for my antics, and I was tired of trying to be pleasant with someone so determined to destroy themselves. It wasn't until I had reached the door that he spoke again.

"I don't hate you" his voice murmured from the darkness of his cell. "You've shown me the closest thing to family that I've had in the years I've lived."

"We could still be family" I supplied wearily.

His laugh echoed in the confines of the secure room.

"I don't think the father of the babe you carry shares your views. And even if he did, I'm not made for that sort of thing. All I know how to do is lie and put on a face."

"You're lost" I replied. "But with the help of Illuvatar, I think you're not far from the light. Even the best of us have Darkness. Only a fool ignores the shadows that whisper in the depths of the mind."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title Translation:**  
>  Duath Min-Our Darkness


	41. Five Months Hence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Aragorn learns of the perils of upsetting an elf who is with child, Faramir cautions Aragorn against hiding Legolas' pregnancy for too long._

Legolas was throwing a fit.

For lack of better judgement, I'd walked into what could only be described as a conniption. I'd just wanted lunch, but it seemed that Fate had other plans. Often, I'm inclined to think that expectant fathers find themselves in unfortunate situations, with no clear way out. It's a truth I've been forced to accept several times, no matter how many other ways I try to manipulate the issue. I was standing helplessly in Legolas' office, watching as he sobbed hopelessly into his father's shirtfront. Thranduil was glaring pointedly at me, his lips set in a thin line. I was very sure that he would have run me through if his arms weren't full of hysterical elf. Privately, I thanked my lucky stars that I'd made it a rule to keep weapons out of the Council Hall.

The brunt of the issue was that Legolas didn't fit in his favorite tunic. It was utterly ridiculous, in my opinion. He was six months along, and he couldn't possibly expect his clothes to magically expand with him. I'd told him so ten minutes previous, and it had turned out to be the worst decision of my life. He'd burst into tears, which of course had brought Thranduil crashing through the door. He'd taken to hovering about the Agricultural Division for some inexplicable reason. It was my rotten luck that he'd been just outside when I'd put my foot in my mouth. I was half-convinced that Legolas was putting on for his father's sympathy, and half-terrified I'd broken his heart and that he'd never forgive me.

"Legolas" I said desperately. "I'm sorry."

"You don't understand!" he wailed. "I'm disgusting!"

"There, there" Thranduil murmured, stroking his hand. "You're not disgusting."

"I'll order you a new shirt just like it, that fits you" I cajoled.

"It's not the same!"

"You'll be more comfortable in robes" Thranduil said gently. "Your Naneth always wore robes after the first few months."

Sniffling, Legolas sat up for the first time in what seemed like an age and a half. His eyes still glittered with tears, and I felt my heart wrench, but was at a loss to whether I should comfort him. I was quite sure that one wrong move could have me thrown across the room. Steeling myself, I took a deep breath and moved to kneel next to his chair, taking one of his trembling hands in mine.

"You are beautiful" I crooned. "Our child is growing like it should be, it's only natural."

Legolas swiped at his eyes and favored me with a tentative look, which I returned just as warily.

"Oh, I'm being ridiculous" he muttered. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Your emotions will run high" Thranduil said gently. "Believe me, we're perfectly prepared for it."

I privately thought he was utterly wrong. I'd never had to watch my words so closely before, it was nerve-wracking. I felt as if I was walking on eggshells, waiting for the next explosion.

"It's hard for you" I said calmly.

"I'm sorry Aragorn" Legolas said despairingly, "I don't care a whit for that shirt. My feelings just…catapulted."

"It's a very nice shirt" I replied. "I can see why you'll miss it." His lip trembled dangerously. "Buut of course you'll look just as wonderful in anything else you wear" I said hastily.

"Aragorn, won't you come with me to fetch lunch?" Thranduil said pointedly. "I'm afraid I get turned around in the Judicial Division, and I know the back way to the kitchens leads through it."

"Of course" I said, catching his drift and scrambling up. I pressed a hasty kiss to my husband's forehead. "We'll be right back, _meleth._ "

Legolas mumbled something begrudging and waved us away. Feeling somewhat misgiving, I followed the King of the Woodland Realm out into the hall. Once the door was shut behind us, he indicated that we should walk. Around us, different employees of the Agricultural Division gave us considerable berth. Though he was considerably well-known in the palace at this point, people were still apprehensive of Thranduil. He cut an impressive figure, sweeping about in all his elvish majesty, and I couldn't really blame them. While Elrond was majestically simplistic, Legolas' father was royally extravagant; his presence commanding respect and admiration. Once we were out of earshot of the door, he began to speak.

"My wife once shut herself in the cheese larder" he said conversationally.

"I beg your pardon?" I asked confusedly.

"She was ten months along, and I'd exchanged her evening gown for a softer, slightly larger one. Of course, I was only thinking of her comfort but she took it terribly. We had to get the locksmith to force her out, and she wouldn't speak with me for a day and a half."

I ducked my head as we passed under a low-hanging arch.

"I'm…a little bit at a loss" I admitted. "I didn't know pregnancy was so emotional."

"His hormone levels are fluctuating" the tall, blonde-haired elf commented. "It's natural, though occasionally baffling. Don't be too hard on yourself, but be careful around him." We stopped in front of the door to the kitchens and he gave me a crooked smile. "I'll leave you here, Gandalf asked me to meet him in the library, and I'm loathe to put him off. Just remember that you're both new at this. Every day will be a little bit different."

He swept away, and I was left to look after him feeling a little bit better. We'd not heard from Yusraa in a long while, and if Rilien had been telling the truth, we wouldn't for another three months. I didn't like it, but Legolas was slowly re-integrating the dark-haired elf back into our lives. At first, he'd just taken to sending questions down to the dungeons; missives needing clarifications pertaining to projects they had left unfinished. Then I'd started to notice new mechanisms with Rilien's curling handwriting bordering the ledgers. That marked the night Legolas and I had had our first real fight. I was desperately worried for him, and I didn't like the idea of him being in a compromising position. He insisted he knew what he was doing, and refused to back down when I'd pressed him. It had ended in my surrender, along with a particularly passionate round of lovemaking. The next day, I'd gone down to the dungeons alone, and Rilien and I had talked long and hard. Ultimately, I appreciated his friendship with Legolas, and I knew they were good for each other. I didn't trust him enough to let him go, but I didn't stop them from working with each other. Legolas didn't have any siblings, and I felt he viewed Rilien as a brother, or at least as close to one as he could get. With a little coaxing, I'd convinced them to allow Gandalf to have sessions with the dark-haired elf. If we were to have him in our lives, I wanted to be sure he was healed in spirit. If anyone understood the terrible grief a broken soul could bring, it would be him. Gandalf didn't like the idea, but consented in any case. Slowly, they were coming to an understanding, though I suspected it would still be some time before Rilien was deemed fit to return to the world.

The Fall Harvest had gone well, under Legolas' careful observation. Each farm had doubled the amount of crop from the previous year, and trade was going swimmingly. Many caravans who had bypassed Gondor in earlier times returned to the city to sell and buy products. The project concerning trade with Harad had fallen through, and we'd had no word from Namaar since his ill-fated departure. Rumor had it that he'd come to an untimely end, and I was sure Yusraa had had a hand in it. News from the South was practically silent, and it worried me. Though Gondor had no particular reach past a certain point, one still heard whispers of the goings-on in the world, but such murmurings were strangely absent. To the North and West were tales of lands long thought dead awakening in Sauron's absence. It seemed the land was alive again in ways it had not been in years gone by. Gimli sent word of great success in the Glittering Caves. During his brief visit in late Summer, he'd brought his betrothed, and they were married soon after. Word had it that they would be expecting little dwarflings any day now.

I placed my lunch order with a kitchen maid and started to make my way back to Legolas' office. I was stopped several times; once by a foreign dignitary who was woefully lost, and again by Faramir, who informed me that he'd stopped by my study with a trade report from the Rohirrim. I realized that if I wasn't careful, it would be easy to fall under a false lull of peace. Externally, Gondor was flourishing, but I knew it couldn't last. Yusraa wouldn't give up so easily, but she needed time to regather herself. She was likely angry by the loss of Rilien, and I truly dreaded her retribution. I could only hope it wouldn't affect the people of Gondor as much as I suspected it would.

Legolas was standing just in front of his desk when I re-entered. In his hand was a scrap of parchment, which I recognized as his daily to-do-list. He worried his lip pensively, one hand on his belly, where the small bump that was our child protruded only slightly against his sky-blue robe. A small ray of sunlight fell onto his hair from the window above, casting little skirting shadowy globes of iridescent light across his alabaster cheeks. I let my eyes wander over the elegant slope of his neck and the pale blush of his lips, before tenderly following the curve of his brow and the soft dust of his lashes. His fingers were long, supple curvatures of grace, the nails delicate half-moons in ivory elegance. Every day, I looked at him and reminded myself how lucky I was to have his love. Swallowing the quavering rush of emotion that suffused me, I stepped into the room and gently shut the door. He looked up and smiled, coming forward to kiss me.

"I'm sorry I was so terrible earlier" he remarked. "I forgot myself."

"You have nothing to be sorry for" I murmured against his hair. "I know it's hard." I pulled away from him, studying his solemn face for a minute before smiling ruefully. "If you weren't at least a little strange during all of this, I confess I might worry more."

Legolas' eyes narrowed a bit at my mischievousness, but his smile gave him away. Setting his list down, he shuffled some papers on his desk before coming up with a scroll.

"I've finished the tax on the wheat" he commented. "If you'll look over it, I can have it sent down to the Court of Approvals."

"Of course" I acceded, taking the missive and sitting down. "I'll look over it now."

We spent a few minutes in silence as I did as I was bid. Legolas drew up a chair next to me, and let his head rest on my shoulder as he drowsed a bit. Work was getting harder for him, though I knew he wouldn't admit it. Sometimes, I would catch him dreaming amongst his paperwork, and I'd taken to sending some of the work down to Rilien when he wasn't looking. Despite his stubbornness to push through, it was hard on his mind and body. I didn't let him pull any more all-nighters, and after a few days of protest he'd agreed it was probably best for the baby. Normally, elves didn't require much sleep, but his hours were becoming more…humanistic as time went on. His needs were circling around those of the child, and I was careful to attend to each shift as it came.

Legolas' needs in the bedroom had skyrocketed about a month before. I'd come in from a very tiresome Council Debate to find my husband pleasuring himself alone, which was immediately unacceptable. We'd spent an entire day away from the world before he'd declared himself sated and fallen asleep for a full fourteen hours. It became routine every three or four days and I found myself swamped with paperwork afterwards, though Legolas remained surprisingly calm. Despite his emotional turbulence, he was able to take quite a bit in stride, and I admired him for it. Through all of it, I was able to better see his strength, and I thought him a wondrous individual.

"That's finished" I sighed, rolling up the scroll. Legolas jerked awake, looking temporarily disoriented. "You did very well" I commented. "I didn't find anything wrong."

"Good" he said, his voice slightly hoarse. "Otherwise I'd have to hang Rilien. I sent it down to him and he took three days to send it back."

A soft knock on the door announced the arrival of lunch, and I pounced eagerly on the plate of sandwiches provided. Legolas hung back to pass the paperwork I'd just looked over to an attendant, before settling down with a medley of greens with butter-soft looking leaves. Occasionally, he'd rise to the occasion of some meat, but today was evidently not the day. Lately, he'd been rather fond of cuttlefish, which I couldn't possibly pretend to comprehend. Imported from Dol Amroth; they cost a pretty penny but thankfully Legolas didn't eat enough to necessitate orders in large quantity. The week before, he'd been overfond of sardines, and I was content to be thankful that it was over with. To describe the atrocity of waking up in the middle of the night to one's spouse eating malodorous fish in bed is an impossible task.

"I haven't seen Elrond of late" Legolas commented, pushing his salad to the side. "Did you let him slip away while I wasn't looking?"

"Adar spends much of his time with the elders" I replied, picking up a napkin. "They spin tales and he listens. Otherwise, he's often in the Healing Houses, but there are few injured right now."

"A blessing that" the blonde-haired elf sighed. "I wonder how long it'll last."

"I try not to think about it" I said lightly. "How is Rilien these days?"

"If you came to see him you would know" Legolas replied gently. I raised a brow and he sighed. "He's doing well, though he chafes at his confinement. He'll be more useful to me when Gandalf deems him fit to be back in society."

"That could be years from now" I replied.

"Mayhap" Legolas acceded. "Though I suspect it will be sooner than later."

"And you're sure you'll be safe?" I pressed.

He stared pensively at me.

"Aragorn, if I could be absolutely sure of everything, I'd be living in a fantasy world" he said wearily. "But if I don't give him this chance, I won't forgive myself."

"I trust your judgement" I replied, standing and tugging at the bell-pull. "And I trust Gandalf."

We fell silent as a group of attendants came in to clear away the lunch. Legolas stood, steadying himself on the arm of his chair, and moved behind his desk,

"I've got a few things to finish up today" he said, sounding tired. "But I'll be up to our rooms at the usual time."

"You'll take your dinner here?" I queried.

"Yes, though I might invite Adar. He frets if he hasn't heard from me in a long while."

"I've got an assembly meeting in an hour" I murmured, coming forward to kiss him. "I expect it'll last into the evening."

"Mmm" he sighed, drawing me in for another. "Don't come in too late."

"I shan't, take care of yourself love."

He waved me away and I exited to make my way back to the office. The forms Faramir had left on my desk were lengthy and mind-numbing. It seemed that far too many people were concerned with the fairness of the tax, and each statement outlined different sections that demanded revision. By the time I was forced to make my way to the Advisor's Hall, I had only finished half of them. Faramir met me at the doors, and we made our way inside together.

"There's something you're not telling me" he said calmly.

I raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

He smiled wryly.

"I don't hold it against you, a King is allowed to have his secrets, but I thought you ought to know that people are asking questions."

"What do you mean?" I hedged, and an expression of irritation passed over his face.

"Your husband's condition has become apparent to those in the public that are observant" he said patiently. "Unless you want nasty rumors to start flying, I suggest you consider a public announcement."

"If you're suggesting that I'm going to be offended by rumors that Legolas has been nipping down to the kitchen perhaps too many times in the last few months, I assure you that it won't upset me at all."

"That's not what I'm saying" he said flatly as we came to my chair. He turned to face me. "Forgive my forwardness, but Legolas…appearance can't be passed off as…overindulgence. It's rather painfully clear what's going on with him. If you don't announce it soon, the public will assume the child was conceived through infidelity." He lowered his voice. "Your husband's Chief Advisor has disappeared, and it becomes apparent soon after that Legolas is pregnant. Imagine what people will do with that sort of information."

I grimaced.

"Perhaps you're right."

"I know how the gossip-mill here works" Faramir said lightly. "If you didn't want anyone to know, you should have locked him up."

"I'd have done it at my own peril" I grumbled. "Though I did consider it. I'd say damn it all and let them think what they wish, but Legolas is far too sensitive to endure any sort of ridicule from the masses right now."

"I also want to congratulate you" my steward said cheerfully. "Now I know what you meant when you said the lineage of Gondor was secure."

"Thank you" I said with mild amusement. "I'm glad you approve." I hesitate. "At the mention of Rilien, why did you agree to let him work in the Council Hall?"

Faramir looked confused.

"He had a good reference" he replied. "I thought I told you that."

"No, you didn't" I said grimly. "I should very much like to see that reference."

"Of course, if you wish."

Members of the council began to file in, and we fell silent. Each councilman brought a member of the community whose concerns they felt valid, and they were allowed to voice them in an allotted section of time. I counted twenty seven members and offhandedly ordered a glass of wine. Usually, it was more, but it seemed today I would be lucky. Concerns ranged from construction projects to shop-openings. Gondor had a vast myriad of varying business, and I often wondered if I was mad to take it all on. The discussion today focused mainly on a line of vendors who were opening for the end of fall along a stretch of street. Some shop-owners feared their wares would be minimized by the cheaper product of the vendors. I ended up moving them a few blocks upward, and it seemed that all were content with the decision. Next came a situation with the blacksmiths, of which there were three in the city. They'd been competing with prices, and now found themselves out of material and money, for lack of sufficient funds. Faramir suggested requiring a set fee for all sellers of equal trade that resided in the city, therefore preventing unhealthy competition. I agreed, and each blacksmith was given an equal sum from the Treasury to restart their business. It wasn't particularly simulating work, but I found it interesting. Elrond had raised me to pay attention to the subtle niceties of politics, I appreciated them as they were necessary.

After some time, the topics of debate became less centrally focused and more petty. There were small squabbles between council men to sort, and funds to be allotted to different sections of government. The Treasury was comprised of mostly elderly individuals, and they were loathe to give up the country's funds to anything but things of the utmost importance. Monetary negation fell to paperwork, but occasionally the more serious issues made it into the council. Usually, it was a point of contention that didn't find a solution, and was reverted back to signatures and bossy missives once more. Many of the elders were put off by the small orphanage being built on the sixth tier. They felt it an unnecessary expenditure, but with so many children without families after the war, it was a desperate need. Legolas and Eowyn had drawn out the program themselves, and neither Faramir nor I were willing to halt progress for petty whims.

When the Council was dismissed I was thoroughly exhausted and not a little bit disgusted. Faramir pulled me to the side and I agreed to set a date as soon as possible, but emphasized the fact that I would need to talk to Legolas first. We parted ways on the sixth tier, where he went to meet with Eowyn. I hoped fervently that they would announce they were getting married soon, it was really dragging on too long. Still, they were both stubborn people. I supposed that Eowyn would balk at the thought of being a Noblewoman with household duties. It wasn't hard work, but it was a decision that required careful thought.

Legolas was in the bath when I entered the Royal Suite, and called out a soft greeting as I shuffled about to get ready for bed. I caught him just as he was finished toweling off, letting my arms circle him from behind as my lips captured the soft skin at the crook of his neck. His breath caught as I suckled gently, my fingers coming 'round to splay across his chest. My other hand dipped lower, and I chuckled as he shivered with delight, his head falling back on my shoulder.

"People are starting to notice you" I murmured, running a hand over his stomach. "Some think you've been very naughty."

" _Ai_ , pray tell what else I'm supposed to do with a husband as handsome as you?" he purred, turning to face me.

"We ought to announce it" I whispered, drawing him flush against me. "You'll be unhappy if the public speaks ill of you."

"Oh!" he gasped. "I couldn't give a damn what the public thinks right now."

"Stop being so pretty and talk to me a minute" I muttered.

"You started it" he complained, pushing me towards the bed. "But alright, we'll announce it." He fumbled with my breeches before giving up and giving me a saucy look "Hurry up _meleth_ , take your clothes off."

I laughed and let him have his way with me. There were worse things we could be doing with our time. Our days demanded long stretches of attention and occasional boredom, but it was for a good cause. Nights were tender, between the two of us as we looked to the future with hopeful and expectant anticipation. Even with the threat of Yusraa's return looming on the horizon, we were permeated with a sense of well-being and peace. Gondor thrived, and we were the reason that it did so. Fit to rule, the prospect of a long and happy life free of trouble didn't seem so far away. I felt so long as I had what I was currently given, I could face the world and conquer it without worry or care.


	42. In The Heart and the Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Aragorn and Rilien discuss his recovery, Gimli visits Minas Tirith....with a surprise._

"How strange to see you here."

I looked warily at the individual in the cell across from me. It was hard to hate Rilien, admittedly. He'd been through quite a lot in life, and I supposed he had a right to be as he was. Still, I couldn't get the image of him bent over my husband; blade held high to deliver a killing blow. I knew he had a perfectly desperate reason, I wasn't sure if I wouldn't have done the same. But it was hard to genuinely like someone who had slashed your spouse to ribbons. Legolas had recovered, but I could still remember the coppery tang of his blood as I washed it from him that horrible night. Looking at Rilien's deceptively slim fingers, it was hard to believe he could commit such a heinous act. But I had seen it, and now I was hard-pressed to forget it.

"This conversation, if you are willing, will bring you a little closer to your freedom" I replied, settling myself on the stool provided.

Rilien raised a brow and pulled himself upright. Over the past few weeks, he'd been allowed small furnishings. First had come a low but comfortable cot, and then a simple side-table and lamp followed. He had a smattering of books, mostly provided by Gandalf, and a small pile of paperwork from Legolas. His torn robes had been replaced by grey ones that were admittedly drab but of solid-make and soft material. My husband had informed me that he got to wash now and then, which seemed a glorious privilege to me, but I was not privy to his care and could not complain.

"Pray tell what is so important that you feel the need to visit me personally?" the dark-haired elf sighed.

I sat still for a moment, gathering my thoughts.

"I want to know that you feel you have something to live for" I replied gently. "Your mother has lied to you and tricked you, and your son may be beyond help. But you have a place here, and Legolas cares for you, in his own way."

"In other words, you want to know that when I get out of here, I won't go berserk and start stabbing people out of pure despair-ridden insanity" Rilien said dryly.

I rubbed a tired hand over my face.

"You must understand, that I ask this for as much your own good as for everyone else's. The public doesn't know of your deeds, they think you've simply gone on leave for an extended amount of time. Inserting yourself back into our lives will be easy, but I wonder how easy it will be for you."

Rilien ducked his head and moved his gaze to the book on his lap.

"You think that if I don't have a purpose, I will cause unrest."

"I think that you've been under the influence of darkness so long, you might grow bored without it" I countered. He still refused to meet my eyes. "These are my terms; figure out a way around that need, and you will be released. Legolas needs help, as much as he hates to admit it." I stood. "Moreover, if Legolas would fall into peril, I should hope you would defend him." I reached in my robes and surreptitiously slipped a flask between the bars. Rilien gave me an incredulous look and I smirked. "No, I'm not bribing you. It's a gift from Legolas. And I know how much you elves like your spirits. Consider it-if anything-a gesture of good faith."

I turned and made to leave.

"Sire" Rilien said calmly, having risen to stand at the bars.

"I think we've known each other long enough that you can call me Aragorn" I said dryly.

"Aragorn" he repeated. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me" I said lightly. "It's through your own determination and focus that you've made it this far."

My sentimentality exhausted, I made my way out of the dungeons and onto the First Tier. It was rather a gloomy, foggy day, and little droplets of misty moisture clung to my clothes and hair. I was stopped by Faramir, who had come down to converse with a mill man who was interested in expanding his trade. We exchanged perfunctory greetings, and he informed me that I had fifty building proposals to sign or reject. I reluctantly made my way back to my office, stepping about occasional puddles that the meager sun had not deigned to dry out. Arriving at my office, I found that someone had been in to tidy. The mountain of paperwork before me seemed all the more formidable with the clean, dust-free surfaces around it. Pulling out my pipe and lighting it, I contented myself with a few draws before settling down at my desk.

Most of the papers contained permissible building ventures. A group of healers wanted a small bath put into the Healing Houses, so they could bathe patients who spent extensive amounts of time in bed. Some of the Treasurers wanted an Artifact section of the Vaults; in order to separate Artifacts and Trophies from common coin. Still more expected an extension to the Stables. During our wedding, many were forced to tether their steeds in unconventional places, adding another wing to the barn could prevent such issues from occurring. I was frowning over a proposal for another fireplace in the kitchens when Legolas came in. He was resplendent in buttercup-yellow robes, his hair held back with two tiny braids that met at the base of his neck. He was carrying a tray with a sandwich and a glass of cold tea. I smiled gently at him as he set it on my desk.

"Hello my love" I said softly. "To what do I owe the joy of your company?"

"You missed lunch" Legolas replied, settling himself in a chair. "I thought you ought to have something before you get grumpy."

"Ever the considerate husband" I sighed, taking a bite of sandwich.

His nose wrinkled.

"You've been smoking in here."

"I needed something to clear my mind" I replied, somewhat guiltily.

"Hmm" he commented, still sounding dubious. "Well, I can't scold you for everything you do."

"How are you feeling?" I queried, reaching for the tea.

"All's well with both of us" he murmured, putting a hand to the small bump in his robes and rubbing gently. He smirked. "Though he or she certainly takes pleasure in compressing my bladder at the worst of times."

"Have you seen Elrond lately?"

"Yesterday" he commented, sitting up and putting a hand to his back. "Have you been to see Rilien?"

"A few hours ago, we discussed a few things" I said idly, pushing my now-empty plate to the side. "If he's not thoroughly drunk by tonight, I'll be shocked."

"You gave him alcohol?" Legolas said, sounding surprised.

"Of the best sort. I said it was from you, I knew he wouldn't take it otherwise."

"Poor Rilien" Legolas chuckled. "I imagine it's been a while since he partook in spirits." He shot me a mischievous look. "You're awfully naughty."

I stood as he did, and came 'round the desk to gather him into my arms. He shuddered with delight as I captured his mouth in mine, slowly parting his lips to explore him with my tongue. One hand rose to tangle with my hair; nails tracing a gentle pathway up my neck to cup the back of my head. He gasped as I abandoned his mouth to lave the skin at the crook of his jaw. His hips stuttered upward, and I took advantage of the movement to mold him against me. I was rewarded with a hungry moan; and I watched as a soft blush rose to his cheeks.

Legolas' body responded magnificently to arousal. His scent grew headier, and his skin flushed subtly with a thin sheen of perspiration. His mouth became a fount of heated nonsense, and his hands shivery-soft petals of need. He became pliant and prurient; each supple limb intrinsically aware of my touch.

If there was a symphony of love-making, it could be made entirely of my husband's proclivity and response.

"Aragorn" Legolas murmured, as my hands drew up the fabric of his robe. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Despite his vocalized misgivings, his actions told me otherwise. Long fingers unbuckled the back of his garments, where they fell to his elbow. I latched on to a nipple and he groaned, throwing his head back. Chuckling, I let my fingers take over as I began to draw away his robe.

The door banged open wildly, bouncing off the wall and throwing itself back before being slammed open once more.

" _Da!"_ came a strangely familiar but childlike voice. "Daddy! They be undressin' in the offices!"

Blinking owlishly, I looked down at what appeared to be a one and a half foot dwarf with a fiercly snarly beard. He had a miniature axe at his waist and a helmet that was far too big for him. His eyes were a bright blue and alight with excitement and curiosity.

" _Och!_ I thought you two would be over these trysts in strange places!" came an even more familiar dwarf. "Gror! What have I told you about burstin' in on people!"

The tiny dwarf harrumphed in a matter quite like his father and thumped his axe on the floor.

"I'm tellin' ye!" he exclaimed. "They was undressin'!"

"I-" I began uncertainly, still at a loss for words. "Forgive me, but I'm utterly at a loss."

Legolas, who had finished drawing up his robes, burst into a torrent of giggles and collapsed in a chair with a hand over his face. I shot him an affronted look but he waved me away, evidently trying to regain some semblance of control over himself.

"You all act like you've never seen a wee dwarfling before!" Gimli exclaimed from the doorway.

"I haven't" I replied, kneeling to look at him better. "Are they born with beards?"

"A beard is a dwarf's prize!" Gror exclaimed mightily. "It is not to be cut! But treasured and grown!"

Legolas, who had seemed close to regathering himself, gave a snort and dissolved into laughter once more.

" _Meleth"_ I chided gently. "You're being very rude."

" _Ai! Gimli!"_ he gasped. "He looks just like you!"

Our friend's chest swelled with pride.

"Of course he does! He's mine isn't he?"

"And how old are you, young one?" I said gently.

"Six months!" the dwarfling barked. "Almost seven!"

"Quite the young man then" I said gravely, throwing an incredulous glance at Gimli.

"Dwarflings grow much faster than human children" my old friend growled, leaning against the doorframe. "We haven't the time nor the luxury to coddle our young."

"I pity your wife" Legolas said wonderingly. "She must be exhausted from giving birth and watching her son grow up in a matter of months."

"Dis is currently working with Gloin to navigate the passages of Moria" Gimli rumbled. "She rode out the day after she gave birth and I haven't seen her since."

I was momentarily stymied by the fact that a mother could vanish willy-nilly while her child was left in the hands of who-knows. However, I figured it was a topic that didn't allow discussion, so I didn't bring it forth. I was just about to ask Gror if he'd like something to eat when Legolas made a noise of surprise, followed by a soft breathy "oh" of pleasure. Turning round, I watched as he gently smoothed a hand over his belly, an expression of wonderment on his face.

"Is everything alright?" I queried, concerned.

The blonde-haired elf beamed and gestured for me to come closer, taking my hand and placing it where his had been. There was nothing for a moment, and I was briefly stymied. Then, I felt the softest of flutters against my fingertips. It was the gentlest of sensations, like butterfly wings bumping against cloth. My throat constricted and I knelt, taking Legolas' hand and kissing it.

"It seems Gror has shouted enough to make our child excited" my love chuckled. "Or maybe it was you, Gimli" he added, shooting our friend a playful look.

The dwarf had gone all teary-eyed and fumbled in his pocket for a kerchief.

" _Och!_ 'Tis a beautiful thing you two have" he exclaimed, blowing his nose noisily.

"Let me see" Gror demanded, shoving his way between my husband and myself. After a moment, his eyes widened and he looked at Legolas with an expression of horror. "Ye Gods! You've got something in your stomach!"

"Gror" Gimli said sternly. "Ye take your hands off that poor elf right now."

"It's alright" Legolas said, looking amused. "You're quite right, little one. There's a babe in my stomach."

"Is it supposed to be there?!" the dwarfling demanded.

"I surely think so" Legolas chuckled. "You were born from your mother, after all."

"Da! You told me I came from an egg!"

"Yes-well surely I can't explain the details" the elder dwarf spluttered. You're far too young." He glared at Legolas. "Now see what you've done!"

"Well technically, you did come from an egg" I supplied soothingly. "A very tiny egg."

"Thank you" Gimli grumped. "Now he'll be questioning me all night long."

"That's quite a mighty axe you have there" I commented, drawing the conversation down a different course.

"Aye" Gror said proudly. "Made it meself I did!"

"You let him forge his own weapons?" Legolas asked, aghast.

"Children aren't for coddling" Gimli countered. "The sooner they are taught, the sooner they can be useful."

"Children are meant to play" my husband retorted. "Not run about with axes and forge weapons."

"You never did tell us why you've come" I interrupted hastily.

Gimli hesitated, seemingly caught between his argument with Legolas, and answering my question.

"Gloin's sent me with nicities of that business over Moria" he said gruffly. "And frankly, it's been a while since I've seen you both."

"You're always welcome" I replied. "So Gloin is serious over reclaiming Khazad-Dum?"

"Aye" Gimli sighed. "Though I myself don't like the idea. There will be death, and lots of it, no matter how many we bring."

"I was loathe to sign the agreement" I admitted. "But I hated the thought of the dwarves sending their people to die with no aid."

"I figured as much" Gimli grunted. "And I tell you, no one appreciates it more than I."

"Why are the dwarves interested in reclaiming Moria in any case?" Legolas queried, settling back in his seat as Gror moved away.

"Just as the elves are leaving middle earth, the dwarves look to close their access to the outside world" Gimli replied, sounding weary for the first time. "Sometimes, I think my kind forgets the value of living under the sun behind their dreams of great walls of stone deep under the earth." He sighed sadly. "Soon, I fear we will be forgotten, but it will be our own fault."

"If you felt that…your ways of life were changing too much for you, you know you always have a place here" Legolas said gently. "You, your wife, and your son."

Gimli's eyes crinkled as he smiled.

"Aye, that's right kind of you. But Dis is rather deeply fond of our dwarven ways, and I wouldn't give her up for anything. Gror will have a good life, even if he doesn't see the light of day as often as I'd like."

I shuffled back to my desk and looked despairingly at the half-finished pile of proposals.

"Oh, to Valinor with all of this rubbish" I grumbled. "A good friend is visiting and I haven't got the time to worry about it."

"Very well said" Legolas remarked, beginning to stand, and then faltering. I rushed to steady him and he smiled gratefully. "What say we take Gror to meet Gandalf? I'm sure he has some fireworks he could rustle up."

"What are fireworks?" Gror asked curiously.

"They're quite magnificent" my husband reassured the dwarfling, leaning on my arm. "And I think my father would be very interested in meeting you, young one."

We made a leisurely procession as we left the Council Halls. Gimli and I discussed the business with Moria on a more intricate level, both eager to have it out of the way. Legolas and Gror seemed to get along quite well. Despite having the appearance of an under-sized dwarf, he was clearly very young. He spoke of dwarven fairy tales and great battles with overzealous eagerness. My husband listened with a gentle smile, occasionally adding bits and pieces of information that he might have missed. Looking at them, I was comforted by the fact that Legolas would equally as magnificent with our child, if not more. He had a motherly affinity for caring for the young, and it only made me love him more deeply.

It was still rather overcast outside, but we didn't linger on the streets overlong. There was little traffic, and I guessed that the people of Minas Tirith were not overfond of the weather. Occasionally, I'd spot someone scurrying into a shop or putting out plants to catch the rain, but they never remained for long. Gandalf and Thranduil were in the library, looking over a piece of scrollwork in language I did not recognize. Gandalf took one look at Gror, and an expression of delight spread over his face. Almost immediately, he had taken him off to a corner filled with soft cushions and begun spinning tales with bright and colorful illustrations of magic. Gror was immediately enraptured, and I was sure that we wouldn't hear from them for a while. Thranduil was his usual regal self, though he was dressed against the chill in soft furs and heavy robes. He greeted Gimli cordially and they both sat down to talk over political management. Though I was mildly curious over their topic of conversation, I was more drawn to Legolas, who was still standing by the door and looking very weary.

"I'm sorry we got interrupted earlier" I murmured, coming to stand next to him.

He chuckled and leaned his head on my shoulder.

"Maybe it was for the best, I don't know how we would have managed it in the office. Especially in my current condition."

"Maybe it wasn't our best choice of locations" I replied, tilting his chin up to kiss him.

He hummed in agreement and tilted his head up to receive my mouth. After a few moments, I pulled away with a regretful sigh. Thranduil was giving us a hairy but knowing look and I shrugged sheepishly.

"I wonder what Yusraa is doing these days" Legolas said pensively.

"Mostly, she's making me sick with worry" I grumbled. "She's been gone so long I wonder if she'll bring an army back." I worried my lip. "I'm glad for the break though. It's given me time to regather everything."

"Sometimes I dream that she's strangling me in my sleep, and I can't wake up" Legolas murmured. "I feel the life going out of me, and our child, and I'm helpless to do anything about it."

"I would die before I let anything like that happen to you" I said roughly. "And I hate her for making you so frightened."

"If it was just me, I wouldn't be so afraid" he whispered. "But now my death ultimately means the death of our baby. And even if it survived, she wouldn't rest until he or she was dead as well."

"I know" I replied, stroking my fingers through his hair. "Your fears are mine as well."

"Did you mean what you said? When you said you'd never love another if I were to pass away?"

I turned to face him fully, cupping his cheeks. Sapphire eyes searched mine with a look of despair.

"Legolas, you braved the perils of the Fellowship with me, you manage Gondor with me, you go to bed with me." I ran a thumb over his brow. "You carry my child, and eventually, you will give birth. I think you are the most beautiful, intelligent, caring, and nurturing creature under the sun. None can measure up to you, you've set the bar far too high for me to choose anyone else. The fact you could be gone from this world doesn't mean you would be gone from my heart."

Legolas cheeks flushed and his eyes grew moist as I spoke to him.

"Aragorn" he said shakily. "I am terrifyingly in love with you."

"Legolas!" Gror barked. "Come here!"

He looked at me apologetically, and I chuckled and shook my head, kissing him softly.

"Go" I murmured. "I'll still be here."

I watched as he settled onto the cushions with Gandalf and Gror, a fond smile playing about my lips. Thranduil came to stand next to me some time later, and we observed as the old wizard made shimmering arcs that bloomed into tiny dragonlings.

"I always hoped that Legolas would find someone who would see all of him" Thranduil remarked.

I raised an eyebrow.

"I suspect I'm not exactly what you expected."

"No, but you make him dreadfully happy" he replied, smiling softly. "It's as if you were born to be together."

"I hope you don't resent me for putting him through so much pain and peril."

Thranduil sighed.

"Every relationship has its ups and downs. Being married to a King is never easy, and you are a very great King. I knew from the moment that Legolas announced he intended to marry you that there would be peril."

Gror gave a roar of delight, and we both fell silent to watch him chase about some fiery butterflies. Legolas was laughing merrily from his seat on the cushions and Gandalf looked uncharacteristically content. Gimli was looking over a map laid out on a table, and was so far too preoccupied to notice his son's childish behavior.

"Have you decided on a date for your announcement?" Thranduil asked curiously after a time.

"Yes, a few weeks from now" I replied, picking at a loose thread on my tunic.

"Any reason for the delay?"

"Legolas wants to be sure his morning sickness is completely gone before we stand up in front of a crowd" I said dryly. "He hasn't had it for a few weeks, but evidently he thinks a public announcement will make him extra nauseous."

Thranduil chuckled and fell silent.

"How fare's the Greenwood?" I queried after a few moments of silence.

"As usual" Thranduil replied, drawing his robe more closely to him. "I've left my Chief Advisor in charge. She knows the way of things and won't try anything dramatic while I'm gone." He paused. "She rather seems to have things better in-hand than I do when I'm around."

"How so?"

"I confess that I've made myself a rather terrifying figure over the years" he said with a grimace. "People are more likely to approach her with their problems. My father was more tightfisted than I was, but I still like to have things running smoothly, perhaps too smoothly."

"Legolas is very different from you" I remarked.

"He's always taken after his mother. She was a gentle soul, and she passed it on to her son." He smiled wryly. "I suppose it makes sense. He's always been nurturing and forgiving, and so was she."

"She must have been very beautiful."

Thranduil smiled wistfully.

"A! She was the most beautiful _elleth_ in all the world. Sometimes, I thought her a dream, so pretty was she." He smiled ruefully. "The people you love are sometimes fleeting, but ever do they remain in your heart." He gave me a comforting look. "The spaces between life and death might leave you cold, but you will never truly be apart."


	43. Ivory Ruin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Our couple announces the upcoming birth of their child...Yusraa strikes once again._

I was sure that if Legolas kept fussing with his hair, he wouldn't have any left at all.

It was the afternoon of the announcement, and my husband was so discomfited he had changed outfits three times and bathed twice. He seemed to have settled on a cream-colored robe with subtle beige ribbing, but now we had come to the matter of his hair. In the Greenwood, it was customary for expecting mothers to wind their locks into a single braid. However, Legolas immediately dismissed the idea as far too feminine, and had been fretting at the mirror ever since. I myself had brushed his hair twice, but after being swatted away several times I was rather inclined to leave him to his own devices. Thranduil had come in to lend Legolas a furry-looking cloak. It was getting chillier, what with winter coming, and I didn't much like the idea of him getting cold.

I myself had settled for something simple but warm. I'd dug up some silk linen to wear under my woolen tunic, breeches, and coat. Over that I tossed a heavy velvet cape with a mink collar. I'd decided to forgoe my crown, as I wasn't particularly fond of its weight, and I felt it was rather too pompous for anything but a coronation. I knew there were many kings who wore their crowns every day, and only took them off at night, but the mere idea was enough to make me shudder. Legolas wasn't wearing anything in semblance to a crown, so I didn't see any reason I should be different.

"Did you ever get yourself a pair of gloves?" I queried, pulling on my boots.

"Yes, I did" Legolas replied, waving the aforementioned item in the air before returning to his hair. "Oh, this is hopeless" he grumbled, throwing his brush down.

"Just wear it loose" I said gently, coming to kiss his cheek. "You look beautiful no matter how you have it."

He favored me with an indulgent smile before turning to pull on his gloves. Faramir had sent out the bellman the day before to announce the event. There were a few chairs set up around the podium for the old or crippled, but most of the public would stand, as it wasn't to be a particularly long affair. Someone had bothered to hang a garland of hyacinth about the white tree, for which I was appreciative. I'd passed it by earlier and it gave forth a pleasing, summery aroma. Gandalf had declined to join the gathering, but offered to watch over Gror so Gimli could attend. The two of them made a very interesting pair, and though Gimli was none too happy about the old wizard spinning fairy tales for his son, he didn't have the heart to mention it.

Legolas rose from the vanity and slid into the cloak his father had provided. Stepping into his shoes, he took the arm that I proffered and we made our way out of the Royal Suite together. Elrond was waiting for us outside, and we made easy conversation as we descended the winding stairwell to the courtyard below. Thranduil met us at the foot of the stairs and made a great fuss over Legolas before falling into step. I assumed that Gimli must have positioned himself somewhere at the forefront of the crowd.

Most of Minas' Tirith's population had come to listen to the King speak. They watched curiously as we made our way through the crowd to the podium underneath the White Tree. Some of them whispered and pointed, but I made an effort to ignore it. Faramir stood next to the podium, with his hands behind his back. Next to him, Lady Eowyn was resplendent in a deep blue gown with silver stitching. She offered us a small smile, which I returned with hesitation. Legolas was insistent that we leave the past in the past, but it was still difficult. Thranduil and Elrond moved to join my Steward, and Legolas and I continued on up the steps and onto the stage. I took a moment to comfort my husband; letting my arm slide from his grasp and joining our fingers together. He smiled at me, with eyes as blue as summer, and I steeled myself to speak.

"Lords and Ladies of Gondor!" I began. "It has been long since I've stood before you to announce fair tidings, but that time has come again." I took a deep breath. "Legolas and I are proud to announce that Gondor will have an heir in six months' time." I smiled gently at my husband. "My love is with child, and we are proud to be extending the line of Gondor further."

There was a gradual deluge of cheers, starting in the front and rolling towards the back before joining in unison. Our news seemed to be just as popular as our wedding ceremony, which was some measure of comfort. If I could say anything of the people of Minas Tirith, it would be that they were generous and open-minded. I supposed it had somewhat to do with the fact that Legolas had gone to great lengths to prove himself during his time as consort. Hard work and determination had moved the public opinion greatly in his favor. I was both proud and exhilarated by the success we had garnered together. It was a reminder that despite the hardships in life, we find ourselves in the best of places, as long as we set our eyes to the task with honesty and integrity.

As we stood, waving every so often and stooping to clutch the occasional hand, Legolas stiffened and his face paled. Immediately on alert, I drew him close and looked around for the perceived threat. A great gasp came from the onlookers in the crowd, who seemed to be looking behind and above us. Their faces bore expressions that were half morbid fascination and half terror. Whirling, I turned to face the White Tree, shoving Legolas behind me despite his protests. The hyacinths strung above us were dripping long funnels of blood from their centers; the ghostly white of the petals contrasting dramatically with deep crimson. The scarlet liquid dripped slowly onto the stage below, creating little pools that grew slowly but steadily in girth. The coppery tang in the air was gagging, far stronger than it should have been and it forced its way into my throat and lungs.

Legolas retched and I steadied him as he attempted to regain composure in front of the crowd. The White Tree was suddenly obscured in a great cloud of darkness which seemed to boil outwards like a great bank of thunderheads. It surrounded the podium 'till I had no clear view of the masses before us. The sounds of the gathering were suddenly muted, and it was as if Legolas and I were shielded on all sides by a muffled curtain of darkness. There was a sound much like that of the crocodiles that rest on the banks of the River Poros; a thick, rattling growl followed by a serpentine hiss. Legolas gasped and I followed his gaze back to the hyacinth; which were by now saturated in rubicund fluid. The pistil of one had darkened to black, and appeared to be growing in length. As we watched, it stretched into a long, thin feeler with a dagger-sharp point. It rose into the air with a soft slithering sound and appeared to be scenting its surroundings. Other sections of the garland appeared to do the same, bursting forth spindly appendages that acted like hounds searching for a scent. There was a frantic shout through the fog and Thranduil practically flew out of it, his eyes wide and panicked as they focused on what was before us. I shoved Legolas at him, and he met my gaze.

"Take him" I hissed.

My husband's eyes widened in disbelief just as the sentient strands stiffened- responding to the sound of my voice-and shot forward. Unlike piercing several points on my body as I expected, they rapidly joined together to form a thick cord before stabbing directly at the center of my chest. All of this happened in a fraction of a second, and it took me several more to recognize the pain. It started in the localized area and spread outward, like great licking tendrils of fire rushing through my veins at an impossible pace.

"Aragorn!" Legolas cried, throwing himself against his father's vice-like grip only to be tugged back again. "No, _please!"_

"Get him out of here!" I shouted, dropping to my knees and shuddering violently.

I was acutely aware of their retreat from the shadows, and I felt a small measure of relief knowing that Legolas was safe. The pain was horrendous, and my vision was starting to darken, but at least now I knew my husband was out of harm's way. The thin, spindly appendages had retreated, but the feeling of ice rushing through my limbs did not. I was suddenly very sure I had been poisoned, and that it was incredibly fast-acting. Strangely, it didn't appear to be doing any particular damage other than creating a psychological sensation of immense full-body pain. Even as I watched, the desecrated garland fell to the floor and writhed; the blood smoking heavily before disappearing into nothingness. The great, slithering tentacles appeared to whither and shrink before crumbling to dust. Elrond had run into the mist with his sword held high only to find he had nothing to fight. I was bleeding rather heavily from my chest, but it wasn't anything that couldn't be righted. I drew a great shuddering breath and coughed; struggling to keep my eyes open through the agony. Elrond pulled off his cloak and hastened to press it against the wound, his lips in a tight line. His other hand moved to press against my forehead, and I felt warmth pervade my constant sense of pain. My chest throbbed horribly and I grit my teeth against crying out.

"It's alright _Ionneg"_ Elrond murmured. "I know it hurts but that's all it is doing."

I threw him an incredulous glance and he looked gently at me.

"The attack wasn't meant for you; it will do nothing on your body but cause you to feel pain. You did the right thing, getting Legolas away." As he attempted to staunch the blood flow, the fog around us slowly receded. I could once again hear the sounds of the crowd, murmuring in panicked excitement. "Listen to me" my foster father continued. "By the time the darkness clears, you must be upright, do you understand?"

"I-I don't know if I can" I gasped.

"You can't let your people see you like this" Elrond urged. "It will only make them think you incapable of protecting them." He pressed a hand over my forehead, and this time I felt a surge of energy fill me. Seconds later, he was drawing my coat over the wound, and covering the damage with my cape. "Hurry, you must think of something clever to say."

Gritting my teeth, I rose with his help, turning to face the crowd that was slowly coming into view. Once he was sure he had me steady, Elrond handed me his sword and moved away, standing at a corner of the podium. He nodded to Thranduil, who released a pale-looking Legolas. He made to rush up the steps but caught my eye, and I subtly shook my head. Regaining himself, my husband made a slow and regal ascension back onto the stage and stood to my right.

"You all know of the dark force that threatens our city" I said, relieved to hear that there was no tremor in my voice. "It has put us all through trying times and nightmarish terror." I swayed slightly and Legolas surreptitiously leaned on my shoulder; giving me support. "I tell you that no one has been plagued by this fiend more than I have, knowing that it still walks among us, bent upon destroying a reign that I have determined to keep peaceful." I took a shuddering breath. "You are my people, and I would have you know that I value your livelihood to the utmost scale. Your pain is my pain, and your loss my loss. Right now, we face a formidable foe, and I give you my word that we have been doing our best to keep this city safe. I ask only that you have some faith in your leadership, and that you remain patient and understanding of the darkness we must conquer."

There was a smattering of applause, not as strong as it had been before, but enough for me. Faramir took to the stage and announced the end of the gathering, while Legolas once again offered to be privy to be mailed what would certainly be hundreds of questions. I remained where I stood, my jaw set against the pain, sure that if I even moved an inch I'd fall over on the spot. Slowly, the people of Minas Tirith began to file out, some casting dubious glances over their shoulders. One of the elders approached Faramir soon after and they disappeared, presumably to figure out some plan of damage control. Legolas kept shooting me worried looks but I found myself unable to meet his eyes, preferring to stare straight ahead in favor of collapse.

"Aragorn" he muttered, shaking my hand. "Aragorn, how bad is it?" When I didn't respond he took things into his own hands and ripped open my cloak and coat. His face drained of all blood and he mouthed wordlessly for a second. "Estel" he said unsteadily. "There's a hole in your chest."

"He'll be fine" Elrond said shortly, striding to stand by me. "We need to get him to the Healing Houses, unseen." He reached for my forehead again and looked into my eyes. "I'm going to release the adrenaline thread" he said calmly. "It's going to shock you."

Closing his eyes, he made a circular motion with his fingertips. There was a faint coldness, and then it felt as if a ton of bricks had been hung from my limbs. I dropped to my knees, stopping myself from falling over only by hanging on to my father's sword. The agony that had been pushed to the back of my mind screamed forefront once more. Legolas looked very close to fainting himself, and I regretted the stress I was obviously putting on him. Gimli came up the stairs and patted his hand comfortingly, for which I was exceedingly grateful.

"You'll be all right, laddie" he growled. "Thranduil's gone to fetch Gandalf."

I swallowed and hung my head, perspiration forming on my brow as I attempted to remain conscious. If I could compare it to anything; it was much like when I was tossed over that cliff by a warg. I'd woken up with minimal use of my limbs and a headache that made me feel as if I'd been beat about the head by a stone giant. This wasn't much better, but it burned more than it ached. I could tell if it had been second, minutes, or hours, but eventually Gandalf was there, trailing Gror at the end of a silvery thread of magic that wrapped around his index finger. He and Elrond conferred briefly before the old wizard stooped and made a complex hand movement over the wound in my chest. Gradually, the pain began to ease, replaced instead by a feeling of numbness. Retrieving his staff from the ground, Gandalf placed it over the afflicted area where it grew bright. A dark substance began to issue from my body and was absorbed by the light emanating from the wizard's staff. This went on for a few minutes, until Gandalf sat back, looking grimly satisfied.

Testing my limbs, I was relieved to find that I had control over them more or less. Standing, I allowed Elrond to patch me up with some linens before handing him back his sword.

"I'm guessing that was meant for Legolas" I commented, wincing as my chest gave a sharp twinge.

"Indeed" Gandalf said gravely. "And it would have killed him."

"Why didn't it kill me?" I queried.

"Because it was a curse centered on the elven psyche" the old wizard replied. "Much like when Legolas collapsed when you were having dinner with Yusrra and Namaar." His staff shuddered strangely and he gave it a little shake. "I don't particularly want to go into detail about this spell, as its effects on your husband would have been devastating. But I'll suffice to say it would have caused his body to shut down in order to defend itself. For you, it caused only severe pain, and you should count yourself lucky that is all it did."

"I need to talk to Rilien" Legolas said. "I'm sure he'll be able to give us some answers." He passed a trembling hand over his brow. "I don't think I'll be able to do it today, but sometime soon. Does Aragorn need to go to the Healing Houses?"

Elrond gave me a piercing look.

"I think he should be alright if he lies down for a while in your chambers. His wound will take some time to heal, but I know you have salve you can use to help the process along."

"We need to have another meeting regarding Yusraa" I said wearily. "She's tried her hand again, and earlier than we thought."

"You're in no position to debate" Elrond said gently. "Go and rest. Tomorrow we can decide the best course of action."

Legolas stroked a hand through my hair and I sighed.

"Come meleth" he crooned. "Let's go back to the Tower."

Gror, who had been watching the whole affair with a surprisingly adult expression, came forward to press something into my hand. Opening it, I observed a two-inch amethyst, glittering softly in the light of the sun.

"It's me luck-stone" the dwarfling said seriously. "My Da gave it to me, so that when he goes away, I'll always be looking to fortune."

"It's beautiful" I said gently.

"I'll be wantin' it back" he added gruffly. "But you keep it for now. I reckon you're needin' it more than me."

"I'll keep it safe" I reassured him, tucking it into the pocket of my coat. "Thank you."

He retreated to stand by his father, looking suddenly shy. Legolas took my arm and gently led me down the stairs to the flagstones below us.

"You shouldn't let me lean on you" I muttered.

"Aragorn" the golden-haired elf said exasperatedly. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm not made of butterflies."

"I'm so sorry to put you through this."

Just shy of the Tower, he stopped and cupped my face. His gaze was tender, and his touch gentle.

"The attack was meant for me" he murmured. "You saved me." Kissing me warmly, he gently urged me forward. "If anyone is sorry, it should be me."

I refused to let him help me up the stairs. They bothered him greatly without me leaning on him, and though he protested mightily, I used the railing. By the time we had reached the landing to the Royal Suite, I was fairly near collapse, but I managed to drag myself forward. The guards at the door hastened to let us in, and Legolas led me to the bed, where I fell into it with a weary groan. He then hastened to pull off my boots and worry my cloak out from under me. I sat up to remove my coat, but left the rest on in favor of burrowing under the covers. Closing my eyes, I listened half-heartedly to the sounds of my husband shuffling papers in the study. Gradually, the noise around me began to blend into a subtle hum as my consciousness faded. Vaguely, I was aware of the bed dipping as Legolas slid in to join me.

"Are you alright?" he whispered, placing a hand on my shoulder.

Turning, I gathered him into my arms, threading my fingers though his hair. His eyes fluttered and he made a soft noise in the back of his throat.

"I'm fine, just tired" I sighed, gently smoothing a finger over his lisps. "Do you really think Rilien knows anything about this?"

"Well, for one, Yusraa struck sooner than he said she would, so I'd like to hear his reasoning for the miscalculation."

I frowned.

"You think he lied?"

Legolas shook his head.

"No, I think Yusraa has found a power source closer to the castle." His fingers patted my beard absentmindedly. "Where were the enemies buried after the attack on Minas Tirith?"

"They weren't" I replied, catching his hand and lacing it through mine. "From what I recall they were burned."

"She might be drawing power from Pelennor Fields then" he commented. "It certainly wouldn't have as much to offer as the Dead Marshes, but it would still be considerable."

"If she has a power source so close, why hasn't she struck sooner?"

"I don't know, that's why I need to talk to Rilien" he grumbled.

"When will you do it?"

"In a little while" he sighed. "Seeing you injured stirred up my old resentments of him, and I don't think I want to talk to him when I'm angry."

"Do you think we did the right thing?" I asked. "Announcing the pregnancy?"

"Yusraa was aware of it, regardless" Legolas said calmly. "The attack at the podium was premeditated, by several weeks. It takes a lot of energy to move darkness through Gandalf's shield unnoticed. She would have had to do it slowly, in increments. I suspect she's been planning it for months, and that we just gave her an ideal opportunity."

"I hope you don't feel cheated by all of this. Today was supposed to be about you."

He chuckled.

"I know you like to spoil me, _meleth_ , but if I should ever get angry about you getting stabbed in the chest I assure you I'm in sore need of discipline."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? And what am I supposed to do, spank you?"

His eye darkened.

"That's a thought" he purred. "But not today. I think Gandalf would have my head if we engaged in strenuous activities after all that's happened."

"I don't mind" I said eagerly.

"Oh, I'm sure you don't" he teased. "But I'm tired, even if you're not. I thought I was going to lose you today, and your child's been kicking my insides about sensing my stress."

"I'm sorry" I said miserably.

" _Meleth_ , it's fine. You'll be alright, and I am well. Let's take this time together to be grateful. Tomorrow, we can worry about what to do. For now, we rest."


	44. Amarth Faeg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Legolas and Rilien have yet another meeting, Aragorn is-of course-the very picture of a loving husband._

"Begging your pardon sir, but there's a missive hear from Lord Faenon. It seems urgent."

I sighed and waved a hand, indicating that the messenger should leave the parchment on my desk. He did so and exited, leaving me to stare at the offending document as if it had done me a grievous wrong. In some ways, I suppose it had; I'd just finished the rest of my paperwork, and I hadn't been expecting anything else for the rest of the day. If I were truthful with myself, I'd have liked nothing better than to set the offending item on fire and fling it from the battlements. Propriety kept me from adopting such extreme methods, but it was still a nice thought. I'd found myself lacking in restraint quite often of late, and it was only through common sense and sometimes the inability to motivate myself that I hadn't done anything absolutely ridiculous. Sometimes, I truly resented my position's requirements for etiquette and discipline.

According to Elrond, I was having things fairly easy. The first time he'd informed me so, I'd barely resisted throwing my inkwell at his head. At ten months, my need for naps had rendered me nearly incapacitated, my cravings were ridiculous, and my insides had been kicked in places I'd never thought possible. I'd had to leave meetings without a single word because of a well-aimed jab at my bladder, and I'd fallen asleep right in front of a foreign dignitary, snoring and all. It was as if my body had suddenly decided I was no longer qualified to control it, and had taken the reigns in the most embarrassing and inconvenient ways possible. Aragorn insisted I was the epitome of expecting grace and beauty, but it was hard to believe him when I was up at midnight eating artichokes with blueberry preserves.

Suddenly, everyday tasks like getting dressed or going up stairs were tedious, time-consuming endeavors that left me terribly grumpy. My father was sympathetic, but in an amused and indulgent kind of way that made me feel rather like a child with a petulant demeanor. Elrond was kind but never awfully personal; his approach being mainly professionally medical and less the caring confidant. Gandalf tended to steer clear of me, especially after I'd burst into tears when he told me I'd have to deliver the baby without magical aid. Aragorn was loving and sensitive but terribly busy, and I didn't have the heart to make his days even more difficult by demanding he spend more time with me. Gimli had been a great comfort; he made a great fuss over keeping me comfortable and occupied when my work for the day was overwhelming, and he spent a good many evenings sitting up playing chess with me when Aragorn couldn't make it back to our chambers. I found it harder and harder to sleep as the months went by, and my dwarven friend was a welcome late night companion.

Aragorn had recovered magnificently, but we weren't any closer to finding Yusraa. Gandalf had traced the magical signature of the attack on the podium down to the kitchens, but from there it disappeared. He said that it was quite frankly like someone had left the thread on purpose, only to cut it off as a means to taunt him. Traffic in and about the kitchen numbered in the hundreds, and no one had been acting suspiciously on the day of the attack according to the Head Cook. Gandalf seemed to take the news particularly hard, and was downcast for several days afterward. We had a possible location for Yusraa's mechanisms and we posted a guard, but nothing came to fruition in the months that followed. It was as if she enjoyed toying with our sensibilities; bringing herself out in the open with a macabre flair, only to disappear as if she'd never been. It'd been a hard thing to get the city to calm down after such events. Some were convinced that Sauron had cursed Minas Tirith in his fall, and that his spirit would demand recompense for all eternity. Others claimed that the union between Aragorn and I angered Illuvatar, and that he was punishing us for our wayward deeds. I'd received mail of every sort, even those that were hateful enough to call the guard to investigate. Nobody tried anything, but tensions ran high for a long time afterward.

I'd not been to see Rilien. Watching Aragorn get injured brought to light the pain he'd been put through when my former Chief Advisor had attempted to kill me. I was angry and confused, and more than a little depressed. We continued to correspond over political affairs, but I couldn't bring myself to visit the dungeons. I felt sure that if I did I'd say something that I'd regret, and Rilien would shut down. Aragorn had taken to visiting him in my stead, and he informed me that while their visits were productive socially, the dark-haired elf wasn't inclined to confide in him as he did me. It might seem cruel, but I let myself forget about him for a while in order to focus on other things. Though I didn't do it to spite him, I did wonder if it would cause damage to our relationship.

Winter was in full swing, and the turrets of the White City were covered in sparkling snow and the streets treacherous with patches of ice. Each morning, city workers dressed in layers of wool shoveled the streets so nobility could make it to their destinations with greater ease. The trade season had ended some months ago, and Minas Tirith had shuttered its doors in defense of the bitter cold. Gimli, who had intended to spend Midwinter with his wife, had been forced to stay due to the driving wind and sleet. Gror had enjoyed the magnificence of Gondorian winter festivities till they practically fell out of his ears. We'd all exchanged gifts and hot cider, sitting 'round the fire in the Tower of Ecthelion. Gandalf had went to great lengths to decorate for the little dwarfling, as it was likely the only time he'd get to experience such happy times. Now whenever his father mentioned leaving, Gror would get very silent and sullen. Privately, I very much hoped that the wonders we had presented wouldn't cause dissention between father and son.

Reaching for the document provided, I unfurled it and barely suppressed a groan. It seemed that Lord Faenon had lost the labor missives for spring that I'd drawn up for him. I'd only made one copy, and it was the one I'd sent to him, so I'd have to do it over again from scratch. Dropping the scroll with a distinct feeling of disgust, I chewed my lip and tried to think if I'd saved any notes in one of my drawers. As if in response to my irritation, the babe gave a full-footed barrage against my ribs and I yelped.

"Do stop" I grumbled, smoothing a hand over my stomach. "I won't have any insides left if you keep it up."

A soft knock on the door gave me pause, and I made to stand up and open it. Immediately, my equilibrium was thrown and I returned myself to my seat post-haste.

"Enter" I said wearily.

My father swept into the room with his usual imperious grace. He wore a silver-grey robe and a fur cloak to fend off the cold. His hands were encased in elegant black gloves that disappeared into his sleeves. He favored me with an indulgent smile and I returned the gesture tiredly.

"I heard you talking to the little _gwinig_ " he said fondly.

"Evidently, my irritation is a cause for rolling about" I sighed. "I can't imagine what the next two months are going to be like."

"More of the same, I imagine" Thranduil said lightly, pulling a hand through his hair. "Have you finished your work for today? I thought you might like to go to watch Gror try his hand at ice-skating. Evidently, Gandalf is taking him."

I chuckled.

"Gandalf certainly has taken to him, but I think I must decline. The pond is outside the Rammas Echor, and Aragorn is insistent I don't travel far in the cold. I'd have to go on horseback and I don't fancy the thought."

"I thought I'd ask" my father shrugged. "Sometimes I wonder if you feel rather trapped here, surrounded by stone."

"If it were but a few months earlier, I might have gone, but I feel quite the need to be here for now" I mused. "The nursery is almost finished, and I wanted to add a few touches."

"You conjoined the Royal Suite and the Queen's Chamber then?" he asked curiously.

"Yes" I replied. "We weren't sure it was possible, but Gimli had a hand in the stonework and we figured it out."

"Maybe you ought to go see Rilien" my father said gently. "Aragorn has been trying to get through to him, but he only trusts you. He has information we desperately need."

"I don't know if I want to see Rilien" I sniped.

"Even if you don't, it still might benefit us if you put your misgivings aside in favor of gaining knowledge that might be imperative to your survival."

I considered his words for a moment.

"I'll need help getting down the steps." I said wearily. "I think I could make it, but I don't want to be careless."

I succeeded in getting myself out of my chair and steadied myself at the desk.

"I can send for Elrond to meet you at the entrance to the dungeons" my father offered. "By the time you get there he should be waiting."

"Thank you" I said gratefully. "I hope you enjoy yourself."

He favored me with a kiss and left, the door shutting quietly behind him. Ringing for an attendant, I instructed him to put out the fire and fetched my cloak from the hook on the wall. I pulled on my gloves as I exited and left a note informing Faramir where I had gone. The hall outside was terribly cold and I set off at as brisk a pace as I could manage. I briefly debated on stopping by Aragorn's office to tell him I was gone, but decided against it. He'd informed me yesterday that today was going to be rough for him work-wise. If possible, the streets of Minas Tirith were even colder than the corridors of the building I'd left behind, and I shuddered to think of what the dungeons would be like. There was a light snow falling, but it was clear enough that I could avoid patches of frozen water in the streets. The journey was slow, but it was better than rushing to my destination and foregoing caution. A few pedestrians gave me curious looks but none stopped to talk to me. It wasn't so much avoidance as a sense of what was proper. Even Nobles were leery of stopping to talk to Royalty without an invitation.

Elrond was waiting patiently for me at the entrance of the dungeons, and we exchanged perfunctory greetings before beginning our descent. The old elf kept a steady hand on my arm and I was grateful for it; each updraft of icy air left me rather dizzy. The low-security cells were dark and dank; Minas Tirith rarely held prisoners of war and we hadn't had the opportunity for raids since the fall of Sauron. A single watchman was privy to tend for the entirety of the ward and he gave us a miserable nod as we continued on. Elrond left me to go into high security section by myself. The air was significantly warmer once inside and I guessed that Gandalf must have spelled the area to keep Rilien from freezing to death. The same stool was available for me, but I opted to stand as I didn't think I'd be able to get up.

Rilien was perched on his cot with a book in his hands, his brow furrowed with concentration. His eyes flickered to me before looking back down, not quite registering my presence. Then he jumped and dropped his book, scrambling up to approach the bars. I smirked and folded my arms.

"That must be quite the read" I commented lightly.

He blinked at me for a moment, as if not quite accepting I was truly there.

"Where have you been?" he demanded.

I bit my lip.

"You heard about the attack near the White Tree" I said calmly.

"Yes, of course" he replied.

"When it happened…it made me realize how much pain Aragorn must have gone through when you hurt me" I said softly. "And I just couldn't see you when I was so angry."

His gaze lowered, and for a moment he looked ashamed.

"I understand" he replied. I nodded and we fell silent. His gaze swept over me once more, and I was patient under his scrutiny. "You look well" he said quietly.

"Thank you" I commented. "How have you been?"

"As expected" he said dryly. "Bored to death, but somehow useful."

"Can you tell me anything about the attack?" I queried.

He hesitated and began to pace.

"Yusraa must have found a power source closer to Minas Tirith" he said finally. "That's the only conclusion I can come to."

"I thought the same" I sighed. "But what does that mean for us in the future?"

"It means you must be far more cautious than you have been before" he said grimly. "Has she done anything else since then?"

"No" I replied. "But it took us a few months to trace her power thread, which led us down to the kitchens. Gandalf said the trace ended as if it had been cut."

"She's there then" he murmured. "And she wants you to know it, that doesn't bode well for you." He stopped pacing and appeared to study the floor. "I suppose it won't do any good to tell you she won't stop until you're dead."

"I already know that" I said bitterly.

"So your greatest vein of action is to figure out a way to kill her instead" he continued. "And you must do it when she is in her True Form."

"What is her true form?"

He looked frustrated for a minute.

"I wish you'd sit down" he lamented. "This could take a while." I acquiesced reluctantly, pulling my robes away from my feet and lowering myself onto the stool. "My mother's true form is like that of a spider, but it is not a spider." He took a deep breath. "Ungoliant was not a spider, though she appeared like one. My forbearers are heralds of Darkness, and darkness has many forms and faces. When presented in unification, they appear like that of an arachnid but that does not mean they are one."

"So how would we get Yusraa to manifest her True Form?"

He grimaced.

"Well for one, you don't want to do it in Minas Tirith."

I frowned.

"Why not?"

"Because she's bigger than Minas Tirith" he said dryly.

I took a moment to wrap my head around it.

"Ah" I said weakly.

"She's not as big as her mother, but she's still formidable" Rilien continued. "You'll need to gut her somehow, and spill out the Light she's consumed."

"How exactly do you gut something the size of a mountain?"

"I don't know" he replied. "All I know is that her True Form is both her strongest and her most vulnerable. And that the Light she consumes maintains her monstrosity. Presumably, to destroy her you would have to remove the Light that keeps her alive."

"It's strange, to think a creature of such Darkness thrives on Light" I muttered.

"There is another option" he continued, and I raised an eyebrow. "Wait until your child grows up-if it is indeed the Fated child-and let them take the reins."

"So we endure who knows how many more decades of terror only to throw the burden on one of our children?" I demanded.

"I knew you wouldn't like that suggestion" he sighed. "But you should know it's there."

"I want our children to grow up without the weight of Prophecy" I said bitterly.

"If you should fail to defeat Yusraa in her True Form once, you may lose the chance altogether. She will be more careful. Then you will have to rely on the proclivity of your heir" he said calmly.

"Then we will not fail" I said tightly.

He looked at me, and there was pity in his gaze.

"I envy you your positivism" he said softly. "But you must look at this strategically. You would have to force Yusraa out of hiding and confront her with a massive force outside of the city. Then you would have to present a great enough threat that she felt the need to Transform."

"Why didn't you tell us this before?" I demanded.

"Because I did not care" he said simply. "You were away, and I didn't tell Aragorn because he would rush to act, and it could mean his death. You're more sensible than he is, or at least I hope you are, I trust you to make the right decision."

"I am pregnant" I snapped. "I give birth in two months, and I'm supposed to lead a war effort against an enemy with multiple requirement points and hundreds of ways to err. A war effort with an army who doesn't understand what they are facing, and would surely resent us for keeping the truth from them all this time."

"I'm not the one who has made it so impossible" he retorted. "You are facing up against a Legend. And it is prophesied that this Legend will only fall at the hands of a child you bear. I can tell you her weaknesses and her strengths till we fall over dead; it doesn't change the fact that you are attempting to change what is foretold."

"Then why tell me any of this?" I spat. "Why present me with options if you think you are none?"

"Because if I don't I will still be lying!" he shouted. "And I am tired of lying. I want to help you and serve you the best I can, and the only way I can do that is by giving you every possible vantage point for you to observe." He took a deep shuddering breath. "My purposes have dwindled down to one" he whispered. "And if I cannot protect you outside the walls of this cell, then I can protect you by giving you whatever knowledge I possess, so you can better defend yourself." He laughed bitterly. "You're so much like Alassea; thinking you can conquer the world through your own resolve to find that one small chance in a sea of darkness. That _'maybe'_ that lurks in the depths of hopelessness offering you some kind of buoying hope."

"Is that so wrong?" I asked helplessly.

"It is folly" he snarled. "And if you're not careful, you'll be slaughtered just the same."

He turned his back to me and threw himself down on his cot, perfectly still. I struggled to get up, managing to do so only by using the bars of his cell as support. Our conversation was obviously over. Stiff-legged, I stumbled out of the hold, catching Elrond's concerned gaze. I shook my head, not wanting to talk about what I had heard. In truth, I was in despair. Yusraa was a behemoth, and this was not the time of Gil-Galad. The great warriors of old had sailed or been slain. Both Aragorn and I had fulfilled our Fates already. He was King, and I had meted out my tasks with the Fellowship. Gondor wasn't prepared for what it was facing, and I had no idea how to stop it. None of the options proffered to me had guarantees of success, and I couldn't bank on the premonitions of an ancient tome with a dubious source. Wringing my hands, I bid Elrond a distracted farewell at the top of the stairs and made my way back to the Council Hall. Joining the post-lunch rush back into the building, I found my way to Aragorn's office with no hindrance.

He was bending over a building plan when I knocked, and a look of irritation flashed over his features before he saw who it was. Dropping his quill, he came forward to greet me; pressing a line of kisses up and down my jaw before drawing back and studying me.

"What's wrong?" he murmured, immediately sensing my unrest. His hand rose to lace through my hair and cradle my cheek. "Tell me, Legolas."

I took a shuddering breath and let my head fall against his chest.

"I went to talk to Rilien" I murmured.

Aragorn stiffened.

"Was he cruel to you?" he demanded. When I didn't respond he brought my chin up and searched my gaze. "Legolas, did he upset you?"

A thought occurred to me; of how much I had to lose, how hard I had worked to get here and the fact that it could be ripped from me in an instant. I thought of Aragorn, beaten and bloodied on a massive battlefield with a monstrous beast stretching its numbered legs to the heavens. My mind flashed to the thought of our child; dragged from its cradle at night to be slain in a dark cold room far away from our loving care. My lip trembled and I felt my eyes well up in despair, but I dashed my tears away with impatience.

_"Ai_ , Aragorn" I gasped. "It's so much worse than we thought!" I grabbed his shirt with trembling hands. "Elbereth! I don't know how we're going to do this!" I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head. "I-I feel as If it's all impossible!"

Gentle fingers pried my hands from his tunic, gathering them in one calloused palm while the other descended to rest against my belly. It was only then that I realized that our baby was veritably spinning inside me. My worry and stress was conducting itself to our child. I took a deep breath and forced myself to calm down. I was in no position to fall apart. It wasn't sensible and it certainly wasn't safe. Forcibly, I made myself remember that I wasn't going through this alone; that I had friends and family I could talk to. I couldn't afford to let Yusraa have such a deep psychological hold on my conscience. It wasn't fair to those who supported me, and it certainly wasn't fair on our child. With great effort, I let my breathing calm and my limbs unravel their tension. When he sensed that I had found some semblance of self once more, Aragorn led me to a chair and sat me down.

"Now" he said gently. "Tell me everything."

He listened with a dignified serenity that belied his few months as a monarch. Even when I mentioned how angry Rilien had been, the only sign that it bothered his was a slight furrow in his brow. I realized the longer I talked, the better I felt. Down in the cold depths of the dungeon with no one but my previous attempted-murderer to keep me company, it was easy to lose hope. Rilien was steadfastly morbid, and he often let his aggressive morosity bleed into his interactions with others. He might care about me, and about the fact that Yusraa had to be destroyed, but he was not ready to be released. As good as his intentions were, his macabre viewpoint showed his reticence to view the world in any kind of light; and I couldn't fully trust him until his horizons had a bit of sunlight in them.

"I agree that our prospects look incredibly bleak" Aragorn said once I had finished. "And I understand why you felt-why you feel-panicked. But neither you nor I can afford to allow fear to cloud our judgement."

"And what do you think?" I murmured. "About gathering an army to face Yusraa in her True Form?"

Aragorn grimaced and went to his desk to grab his pipe. Lighting it, he sat back down and stared at the fire.

"If Yusraa is truly bigger than Minas Tirith, I see no soldier that would stand to face her" he said grimly. "We would face certain death simply standing up against a host of Balrogs, let alone the spawn of an Ancient. Men who have stood against the fearsome creations of Melkor in the First Age have long been dead and buried. It's too much to ask of a city." He shook his head bitterly. "It's too much to ask of anyone."

"So we should let our child shoulder our burden?" I asked miserably.

"I'm not saying that" my husband replied. "But Rilien is right about trying to twist the veins of Prophecy and Fate. Over, and over I told myself I didn't want to be King; that I wouldn't be King. And the more I resisted the harder inevitably pulled on me, 'till I stood where I stand now; as a King of Men." He smiled wryly. "I know you think of our child only as it is now, as a small delicate thing who can't hear or see, let alone function without you. But children grow up, and they grow into their ilk. Maybe like us, our child is destined for greatness. And who can deny someone their chance to stand in the history books?"

"It's more complicated than that" I said desperately. "We're parents, or we will be, we can't just sit idly and hope for the best!"

"All our efforts against Yusraa have only driven to push her back" he replied, taking my hand. Swiping his thumb over the center of my palm, he continued. "Think of us like the Battle of Dagorlad; Men and Elves succeeded in driving Sauron's forces back and he fell dormant until the One Ring resurfaced. Maybe our purpose is to beat Yusraa back and tie her down until our child is able to defeat her indefinitely."

"It still doesn't feel right" I whispered. "Doing our 'parts', playing our 'roles.' Why can't we choose what we want to do?"

"Because sometimes what we want isn't within our reach" Aragorn replied, his eyes gentle. "And when it isn't, it's often in the reach of another."

"In this case, our child" I said bitterly.

He sighed.

"Legolas, you are going to be a magnificent parent. There's something in you that shines when it comes to caring for children. I know it's hard to think of the little babe inside you doing great and magnificent things, but don't you think our parents felt the same way?"

I chuckled morosely.

" _Ai_ , Aragorn, sometimes I wonder if you're not older than me."

"I'm not" he said bluntly, and smirked when I frowned. "But I grew up with brothers who went off to do glorious things, and I saw how it affected Elrond to see them off, even though he tried hard not to show it."

"I don't know if I ever want to talk to Rilien again" I said exasperatedly. "He practically drives me blind with panic."

"I think he's rather in love with you" Aragorn said, smiling easily.

"Don't say such things" I muttered. "I look like I'm carrying a pumpkin about."

"And yet you manage to look glorious regardless" my husband teased.

"Don't jest" I grumbled. "You know I don't find it funny."

"I don't jest" Aragorn replied, still smiling. "Rilien is in love with you, and the idea of you in peril terrifies him." I was silent for a while. "It makes sense if you think about it" he continued. "A sense of propriety wouldn't be enough to stay Rilien's hand, not with what the consequences of his failure were. He loves you very much, and I don't blame him in the least."

"You don't?" I asked incredulously.

"I" he began imperiously. "Am married to one of the most beautiful, intelligent, and gracious elves in all of Middle Earth. I was bound to have some competition at some point." He threw me a saucy look. "Luckily, I was smart and hurried to wed you before anyone else tried to steal you away."

"You're not jealous?" I queried.

"Should I be?" he countered, raising an eyebrow.

"Aragorn" I said dryly. "I'm afraid I am far too enamored of you to be making eyes at anyone behind your back."

"I know that" he chuckled. "And believe me, I love you far too much to be looking elsewhere as well."

"Good" I said shortly. "Because unlike you, I am very jealous."

He laughed, and after a moment's reluctant indignation, I joined him.

"We'll convene with Gandalf soon" he said after sobering for a moment. "And you can tell him your concerns. His gaze shifted back to the construction plans lying on his desk.

"I'm sorry" I replied, rising. "You told me you had a busy day and I just barged in and forced you to stop."

He stood as well and took my hands, kissing them gently.

"You can barge in anytime you are feeling hysterical" he murmured. "If you don't, I shall be very upset." He looked regretful. "But I admit I do have to get back to work if I don't want to be up all night. Why don't you go up to our rooms and have a rest?"

"You spoil me" I said wryly, running a hand down his arm absentmindedly. "But I think I will."

"Good" he said shortly. "And when you've woken, you can join me for dinner." He touched my nose gently. "But not until the both of you are feeling better, I won't have any of it."

"I do love you" I remarked.

"I love you as well, _meleth._ 'Till the end of our days, and don't you forget it."


	45. Ainion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warning:** birth scene.

There was a power grid strewn across a section of the kitchens.

It was late evening when Gandalf had come to inform us of the fact. Aragorn and I were fixing up the nursery when he found us, and neither of us were happy about the news. It meant that Yusraa had a stable conduit in the city, and she would no longer have to leave to gather power. Gandalf was, to put it mildly, furious. It was one thing for Yusraa to attack with spontaneity, making it hard to trace her through unpredictability and recklessness. Now, she had set up base, and the elderly Maiar was having trouble taking it down. Spells that anchored magic to specified locations were complex and personal, and though Gandalf had an inherent understanding of the Necromancer's spell-work, he didn't comprehend it intimately. He admitted it was a grievous oversight, as he hadn't expected Yusraa to do something so bold.

I found myself unable to allow myself to fall apart over it. At twelve months, I was due to give birth any day. Elrond had restricted my movements to the Royal Chambers and the baby's rooms. I didn't like it, but a few weeks earlier I'd discovered the consequences of climbing the massive stairs in the Tower of Ecthelion. I had the pleasure of experiencing false labor contractions for several hours before the scare was over, and my father scolded me terribly. The anatomic niceties of my condition were fairly straightforward. A month previously, my body had shifted to accommodate the addition of a birth canal along the perineum. It had happened at night, and involved not a little bit of blood, but somehow, I'd remained relatively sane throughout. Both our father's assured us it was unusual but not abnormal. Gandalf had helpfully added that it could be considered a bonus, as the child wouldn't have to be cut out of me with a scalpel.

While having semblances of female anatomy wasn't exactly the best and brightest of my experiences in the whole ordeal, it was certainly the least dramatic. Aragorn was quick to assure me that he didn't view me any differently, though I did suffer a mild psychotic break over the whole ordeal. It certainly brought things in the bedroom to a grinding halt. To be fair, most of my participation in intimate encounters involved lying down and moaning happily, but I was perfectly content to accept that Aragorn was enjoying himself as long as he told me so. Still, I was now far too self-conscious to allow my husband anywhere near my nether regions.

Elrond insisted on poking and prodding me in an assorted manner of ways almost every day. I didn't think I'd been subject to so much consensual 'voyeurism' in my life, and I didn't like to think of the fact that it would get worse before it got better. I felt as if I was a scientific oddity, and everyone was waiting for me to sprout antlers and fly away to the moon. Admittedly, I spent a great wealth of time bemoaning the injustice of it all, even when I could have been doing more productive things. I had a supportive family, and faithful friends who only wanted what was best for me. My situation was unique, and most certainly singular to the time. Elrond examined me in order to retain further medical knowledge, in case there should be others with my gift in the future. Everything that was being done was for my betterment, and for future progress. Being uncomfortable for a little while didn't give me an excuse to be selfish.

When I wasn't having a check-up, I was busy preparing for the baby. Aragorn called it 'nesting' but I didn't like to think of myself as a mother hen preparing to lay her eggs. There was really only so much one could do to a nursery before it became ridiculous. I'd promised myself that our child would understand the value of life without being showered in mountains of toys. Thranduil had raised me to put little stock in the value of material items. Elves learn love from the land and the trees, not from groundless objects that rust and decay. We'd received countless gifts during my pregnancy, and we'd used perhaps a tenth of them. One item from each person was enough, and even then I was leery of possible clutter.

"I don't see what we can do" I said wearily, slowly lowering myself into the rocking chair. "Elrond might be able to help you disassemble the grid, but I'm useless and Aragorn doesn't know a thing about magic." My husband made a derisive sound and I looked gently at him. "You don't, meleth. Even my knowledge is limited..."

Gandalf, who had been eyeing a stuffed bear with an extremely suspicious expression, huffed exasperatedly.

"I'll see what I can do in the morning" he growled. "Elrond rode out with Faramir to visit an old healer outside the Rammas Echor. He won't be back until late tonight. For now, I'll double the guard around the kitchens and we had best hope everything remains the same."

"I could join you" Aragorn offered. "Maybe my presence would aid in delaying her movements."

"I think you are more needed here" Gandalf said, and I didn't miss the way his gazed flashed to me. "And I don't think Yusraa discriminates based on whether she is in the presence of a King."

He bade us a good evening and left us to our own devices. Aragorn grumbled to himself for a minute, but eventually settled down to finish assembling the bassinet. I watched him idly for a minute before rising from the chair to cross over to the window. The White Tree could be clearly seen from this height, and the courtyard surrounding it was free of traffic. It was strange to think that a year ago we hadn't been here. Instead, we'd been out seeking the demise of the One Ring and Sauron's fall. If someone had told me then that by the same time next year I'd be married and expecting a child, I think I would have laughed and walked away. Looking back, the odds were almost staggering. At any given time, something could have gone wrong. Elrond could have forced Aragorn to keep his oath to Arwen, and my father might have persuaded me to return to the Greenwood out of a sense of duty. Either one of us could have fallen in battle, or been forced to part ways due to unforeseen circumstances. Even when we had established our relationship in Gondor, I could have been killed numerous times. Biting my lip, I leaned against the sill and breathed deep. At this point, I could only count us lucky. As much as I wanted to rail against the misfortunes Yusraa had placed upon us, there was the simple truth that we prevailed. I couldn't keep hoping for a future without worry and fear, I could only be grateful to be alive and well.

"You're quiet" Aragorn murmured from his spot on the floor.

"My mind is elsewhere" I replied, turning from the window and smiling gently. "Have you finished?"

My husband grimaced and gestured at the half-assembled bassinet.

"Every time Adar and I do it he makes it look easy, but I think it does good to remember he's done it three times before."

"Of course" I teased, moving forward to sink down cross-legged. "And he's only shown you about ninety times."

"I was never a craftsman" he grumbled. "Are you sure you want to sit like that?"

"If I'm going to help you I haven't much of a choice" I said lightly, picking up an intricately carved piece of wood. "Look, darling, this goes here..."

We'd spent days deciding on a color scheme before settling on white. Aragorn had been rather fixated with the idea of red, and I'd stubbornly insisted on green before we met in the realm of neutrality. Eowyn had been eager to present us with yards and yards of pearlescent lacy fabric, but we'd chosen bolts that were less intricate and more indiscriminate. The rocking chair had been a gift from my father, and the knitted blanket in the bureau was made by Rosie Cotton. Gror and Gimli had worked together to forge an intricate candelabra. It was made with a strange, crème colored metal that bent and twisted in fantastic, whimsical ways. We were still in a quandary when it came to names. Each of us had specific titles that we were fond of, but one could never be sure if the name would fit the child once he or she was born. Aragorn was partial to strong, Gondorian namesakes, but he was more interested in my opinions than forcing his ideas to the forefront.

Gimli had regretfully bid us farewell come the first indications of Spring. He'd received countless missives from Gloin and his wife alike, demanding his return as soon as was physically possible. Despite his eagerness to stay until our child was born, our old friend had duties he had to attend to. As much as I'd have liked him to remain, I understood to well the obligations to one's people and country. Gror had practically been in tears when they left, and I'd been not at all surprised to see Gandalf wipe his eyes with his beard several times as we watched them ride away. The two had become fast friends, and I knew that they would miss each other terribly. As much as he wanted to cut the impressive figure of a stern and abject Maiar, he had a soft spot for children and the little things of the earth.

Our fingers brushed gently as we fitted piece after piece together. There was a serene stillness between us that was both comforting and calming. It permeated the buzzing anticipation that seemed to constantly encompass me, and settled my soul. I was acutely aware of Aragorn; of how his breath would whisper across my cheeks when he moved close, and how the stormy grey of his eyes flashed with tenderness as he worked. It was elegant woodwork, really. Aragorn had selected ash wood to go with the ivory tones, and each curling bend blended magnificently together. The bassinet was round, with a canopy of alabaster fabric that flowed right to the floor. It would fit the child for the majority of a year, and then we would have to find something bigger.

I remember that two things happened at once; in perfect synchronization. A contraction-stronger than anything I had felt before-ripped through me, and my breath hitched. We had been fitting the keystone piece together on the floor, so that we could lift it up to the rest of the structure in one piece. My hand slipped and we both faltered, drawing back. A warm and wet sensation flooded my thighs, spreading out from between my legs to stain the soft carpet below. Aragorn's eyes were immediately drawn to where mine were looking, and he drew in a sharp breath. A wave of panic suffused me; coming up to grab my throat with a sensation that drove the breath from my body. Carefully, I set the piece we were assembling down, and braced myself to get up. Again, there was the sensation of my stomach being wrapped in bands of iron and my innards fluxing inward in a vice-like surge. I gasped raggedly and leaned back to ease the pressure on my spine. I winced as there was a grinding sensation against my pelvis; the baby was restless, as if sensing the impending trial that was to come. Squeezing my eyes shut, I rode it out, determined not to fall to pieces before I had the chance to get to a bed. Aragorn had risen into a crouch, and he moved behind me to take my arm in order to lift me to my feet.

"Legolas" he said gently.

I sucked in another breath and nodded to acknowledge that I had heard him. Bracing myself, I let him pull me up, swaying before finding my balance. My legs felt suddenly useless, but I managed to turn about and sling an arm over my husband's shoulder. We made a slow procession back to our chambers, stopping every so often so I could ride out a contraction. Counting the minutes, I realized I would have to accept the fact that this wasn't false labor. The baby was coming, and it was coming now. As much as I wanted to wrap my mind around it, some small part of me wasn't quite ready. I'd waited for this moment for an entire year, and now that it had come, I couldn't accept it. Once back in our room, Aragorn stripped the bed of the coverlets and laid down a thick swathe of towels. Guiding me down onto the mattress, he helped me out of my robe and drew a soft tunic from my drawer.

"Thank you, _meleth"_ I murmured.

He looked up from the lacing and smiled softly, running a gentle hand through my hair.

"Don't thank me" he whispered. "You're giving birth to my child, I should thank you."

I opened my mouth to reply, but it came out as a pained moan as my body once again inflicted its pain. Aragorn hastened to prop me up on a myriad of pillows; drawing my legs up and positioning himself to check my progress. I winced as cold fingers invaded my body-had to remind myself that it was my husband touching me-and that I was safe.

"You're not ready yet" he said calmly. "If you want, you can get up and walk around, it can expedite the process."

He proffered his hand and I took it, letting him ease me off the bed. Steadying myself on the floor, I began a slow but steady pace across the flagstones, stopping every so often to allow the pain to wax and wane. Aragorn was a soothing, patient presence, but I could tell he was growing anxious. Originally, we had agreed that Elrond would be present during the birth, but he was not here. Thranduil was halfway across the city and Gandalf was in the kitchens. My husband was loathe to leave me, but I could tell he was wondering if it was the right thing to do.

" _Meleth_ " I murmured. "Go and send a guard for my father."

"I can't leave you" he protested.

"I'm right here" I said softly. "The guards are right on the other side of the door."

He hesitated, seemingly fighting a mental battle with himself. Then he appeared to gain resolve and strode over to the door and disappeared. I listened to the soft murmur of voices on the other side for a minute before resuming my idle pacing. My hands brushed over our conjoined piles of paper in the study before moving on to the two chain necklaces my father had given us after our wedding. I was reminded again of the vast changes that had happened in our lives in such a short time. I was sobered by the acknowledgement that we often take time for granted. As it passes, we fail to register the enormity of change, even when it's directly in front of us. I hummed softly and tilted my head, listening as Aragorn slipped back into the room.

"How are you feeling?" he queried, walking up behind me to wrap his arms around my waist.

"I think I might lie down again" I admitted. "I feel…different."

Carefully, my love helped me make my way back to the mattress. Aragorn rearranged the towels for a moment before letting me lean back against the pillows. He positioned my legs once more and I gritted my teeth against the invasion of his fingers. Another contraction rippled through me, this one followed by a visceral, urgent need to push. I groaned and threw my head back against the pillows. Abruptly, Aragorn withdrew and nodded to me.

"You can push if you feel the need" he said calmly. "You're ready."

His sentiments were nearly lost to me, abandoned to the grips of the process as I was. I could feel beads of sweat starting to form across my brow, and I shuddered to think that this was only the beginning of the ordeal. Every muscle in my body felt suffused with a tight and all-encompassing heat that permeated to the very bone. Aragorn had pulled up a chair and I accepted his supportive hand with unconscious desperation. The next surge of labor pains brought me up off the pillows with a shout; lancing through layers of my psyche to burn hot and bright in front of my eyes. I was suddenly unbearably thirsty, but found myself unable to form the words needed to ask for drink. It felt as if my mind had detached from my body, and there was only the super concentrated sense of purposeful focus.

"You're doing so well, darling" Aragorn said gently. I met his gaze blearily, breathing heavily through my nose. He rose to adjust my legs again, and I made a noise of dissatisfaction as he broke my concentration. "I know it's hard" he said sympathetically. "I'm just trying to make this easier for you."

Already in the grips of another contraction, I couldn't find the strength to reply. Instead, I focused on my breathing as I felt the child shift downwards. To this day, I don't know how I braved the hours that followed. Though I would do it many more times, it still felt like some distant dream. My father came, but I had only a vague recollection of his presence. He and Aragorn spoke for some time, but the topic of their conversation escaped me. My father seemed to be of the mind that Aragorn could manage well enough on his own. Thranduil had never been privy to any birth but my own, and I rather liked the idea of being able to say I had delivered my child into the world with only my husband to witness it. Needless to say, the King of the Woodland Realm assured us he would be in his chambers if we needed him, and then left. Gandalf hadn't made an appearance, but one of the guards came with a message saying that he was riding out to see if he could speed Elrond's progress back in to the White City.

"How long has it been?" I muttered wearily, accepting the glass of water my husband passed to me.

"Eleven hours" Aragorn murmured.

"I-" I gasped as another wave of pain washed through me. "-I'm tired, so tired."

Concerned grey eyes met mine, and my love's lips pressed into a thin line. He took a wet cloth from a wooden bowl by the bed and ran it over my brow. The mild temperance of the cloth soothed me momentarily, and I let my eyes close.

"You cannot sleep Legolas" he said sharply. Strong arms brought me up, and forward-away from the pillows-and I was distinctly aware of him sliding behind me and crooking my legs against his. His hands came up under my armpits and I made a small noise of discomfort. "Grasp your knees" he chided gently. "Trust me, _meleth._ " Gritting my teeth, I did as I was bid. "When your body tells you to push, pull back on your legs and lean forward."

Drawing a deep breath, I scrambled to allow myself to center. Despite the awkwardness of the position, I could see the advantage it presented. I was tired and sore, but our child wasn't going to wait for me to take a nap. Stopping now could mean death for both of us. The tell-tale tightening that indicated the onset of another contraction returned and I braced myself. Digging the heels of my feet into the mattress, I pulled back on my legs and bore down; a cry escaping my lips as a sensation pressure became apparent between my legs.

"Good, good" Aragorn breathed into my ear. His chin was tucked into my shoulder so he could observe my progress. "I can see the head, _penbain.,_ Just one more and you can hold your little one."

"Our little one" I gasped, and he murmured something nonsensical in response, his hands stroking through the damp fall of my hair.

I sucked in a breath and gathered myself for one final attempt. There was the indicative ripple of agony and I gave myself over to it completely, gasping as the child breached the entrance into our world in a wash of fluid. The emptiness left in its wake left me uncomfortable, and I made to sit up and grasp the babe but Aragorn stopped me with a firm movement. A wail cut the air as he scrambled out from beneath me and lifted a knife to make short work of the chord. I was left trembling as a clean, white towel was produced and I caught the glimpse of ten beautiful fingers and toes in the candlelight. My breath caught and my eyes filled with tears as I listened to what I was sure was the most beautiful sound in the world. It was a strong, passionate cry that filled the room with its resilience. My fingers ached to hold, and I knew Aragorn could sense my desperate eagerness. His eyes did a quick scan of the babe as he worked; cleaning, drying, and wrapping. Then, with a tender smile on his lips, he presented me with our child.

"We have a son" he said gently, depositing him into my arms.

I felt as if I couldn't breathe, choked as I was by the emotion welled up in my throat. Our son gurgled softly, and I crooned in wonderment as deep grey eyes cracked open to look at me. He had a head full of silver-blonde curls, and skin softer than ivory; but his features held Aragorn's proud heritage. His chin was slender but noble against rosy alabaster cheeks. A tiny hand clenched my finger in a fist and I laughed in wonderment. Sliding my fingers across chubby cheekbones and past a soft temple, I let my hand run over a subtly pointed ear. The crease wasn't nearly as sharp as mine, but it was still there and I felt a delighted shiver run through me. He was so, so beautiful; nothing compared to him, he was so utterly perfect.

"Ainion" I whispered. "Long have we waited for you."

Aragorn placed a gentle kiss to my brow and slid off his perch at the edge of the bed. He disappeared into the bathroom for a minute before returning with a stack of damp towels. While I gazed at our child, he began the laborious task of cleaning me up. The fabric was wet but warm, and I couldn't help the pleased groan that escaped my lips. Aragorn made a soft hushing noise and Ainion's eyes drifted shut. As he pulled the soiled towels out from under me so I could rest on the clean sheets, I felt a wave of exhaustion overcome me. I was so tired I felt that I was going to lose consciousness at any given moment.

"I'm going to check you for any tearing" Aragorn murmured, and I nodded absentmindedly. Once he was satisfied, my husband drew up the coverlets from the end of the bed. Adjusting Ainion so his head was nestled in the crook of my arm, Aragorn bundled up the majority of the mess and stuffed it into a clothes hamper. "Why Ainion?" he queried, brushing an errant curl from our son's forehead.

"Because he looks like an angel" I mumbled, feeling my lashes flutter.

Aragorn chuckled and his lips brushed my cheeks.

"Let me take him while you sleep" he whispered. I murmured something incoherent and acquiesced. "Oh, my love, you have given me such a blessing."

"Don't go showing him off without me" I garbled, and he chuckled.

"I won't, darling. I'll sit right here, until you wake. Illuvatar has been good to us both, I feel I am the luckiest man in the world."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title/Baby Name Translation:**  
>  Ainion-Angel
> 
>  
> 
> **A/N:**  
>  This is where I leave you until Monday. I am very tired, and I have the last few chapters to write over the weekend, plus my other fic, so I need some breathing room. I thank you all for reading! You are wonderful! Have a great weekend <3


	46. Est

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Ainion is introduced to his grandfathers._

I woke when Ainion began to cry again.

It was a sensation akin to being doused in water, but with an urgency to get up and attend that was so strong it nearly knocked the breath out of me. Blinking away the last vestiges of sleep, I rubbed a weary hand over my face. My body was still stiff and sore, but I forced myself to sit up amongst the pillows. It was still morning, though by the looks of the light spilling in from windows, it was fast becoming midday. Shifting my legs, I winced as a ripple of pain bounced up from my core. As much as I'd have liked to get up, it was likely not the best course of action. My body was still recovering, whether I was ready to move forward and leap into things or not. Nothing good would come from rushing myself, it was better to take everything one step at a time.

Aragorn was standing at the foot of the bed with our little bundle of joy in the crook of his arm. It seemed he had gotten up to walk around in order to hush Ainion, but was so far unsuccessful. He hadn't noticed my return to consciousness, and I allowed myself a small smirk as I viewed the slightly frantic expression on his face. He looked rather like he had committed a terrible crime and now had no idea how to right his wrong. After a moment, I took pity on him.

"I think he's hungry" I murmured. "Bring him here, Aragorn."

My husband smiled tiredly at me, and shifted the babe on his arm.

"Do you feel rested?" he queried, coming 'round the bed to hand Ainion over to me.

"I'm tired, and sore" I replied, settling the head full of silvery curls on my arm and pulling at the laces to my tunic. "But it's all so very worth it."

Aragorn chuckled, and his hand moved to pull the fabric away from my skin. Supporting his head, I guided Ainion to my chest, watching anxiously as his tiny mouth hesitated for a moment before latching on. I had been of two minds when it came to feeding. A part of me viewed it as a degradation of masculinity. Already, I was going to carry and birth a child, something no man should be able to do. Nursing seemed just another step down the road to femininity. Still, with my son in my arms, and the knowledge that he was hungry, it was impossible to pretend I was willing to wait for what a servant would bring. He demanded what I was able to provide, and I would not deny him.

Ainion's eyes slowly drifted shut after a time, and I pulled him away as he fell into the realms of sleep. Aragorn chuckled and stroked the head of silvery curls, a tender smile on his lips. Gently, I handed Ainion off to my husband; where'st he crossed into the nursery and lay him down in the bassinet.

"I see you finished it" I said wryly. "When did you find the time to do that?"

"I let Ainion sleep next to you for a few minutes earlier this morning" he replied, coming back 'round to stand by me. "It took me a few tries, but I figured it out." He took my hand and threaded his fingers through mine. "Whenever you're ready, we can announce the birth."

I hesitated. As much as I wanted to share Ainion with my father and the rest of my friends, I still felt an instinctive desire to shield him from the battering noisiness of the world. I'd had plenty of time to gaze upon him and fawn over him, yet I wanted nothing more than to lock him away and never share him with anyone. I was surprised at myself; I'd never been selfish before, and I saw no reason to begin now. Still, I couldn't shake the fierce protectiveness that seemed to overwhelm my sensibilities. The sensible part of me whispered that I had nothing to fear from sharing my son, but a deeper, more primal part of me insisted it was unwise and irresponsible. Aragorn had been carefully eyeing my facial expressions, and I looked at him questioningly when his mouth curled up in a smirk.

"It's alright to feel a little selfish" he soothed. "I feel the same way, to be honest. But I rather think Thranduil will knock down the door should I fail to give an update on your progress."

"Are you sure you haven't done this before?" I queried. "You seem to have an inherent knowledge of it all."

He laughed.

"I've delivered a few babies in my time, and I've seen my handful of jealous mothers." He raised an eyebrow. " _Meleth_ , what you're feeling is nothing out of the ordinary."

"I have the sudden urge to stuff the room with cotton and hope for the best" I muttered. "That can't possibly be normal."

"You're perfectly sane" he reassured me. "I think you'll find there are many times in parenthood where you will have to let your logic override your instinct."

I worried my lip for a moment, balancing on mental tenterhooks before strengthening my resolve.

"…My father said he was in his rooms, I think."

"He did" Aragorn agreed. "I'll go and fetch him." He gave me a stern look. "Don't go wandering about, you're in no condition to get out of bed."

"I feel fine" I protested. "Maybe a little bit sore, but otherwise I can manage well enough."

"As your husband and your current Healer, it is my duty to ensure your well being" he replied seriously. "I think you'll find it much easier if you heed what I say, and don't try to push yourself beyond your limits."

"Oh, very well" I grumbled, settling back onto my mountain of pillows. "I'll be here when you get back.

He favored me with an indulgent smile, and I watched as the doors to the Royal Suite shut behind him. I busied myself with lacing my tunic, more to give myself something to do than anything. Truthfully, I was a little bit hungry, though I suspected Aragorn would want to have Elrond examine me before I consumed anything noteworthy. Reaching for the pitcher next to the bed, I poured myself a glass of water and let my fingers trace the condensation that slithered up the glass. Sipping absentmindedly, I rolled the liquid over my tongue, half-listening for any sound from the nursery that would indicate Ainion was awake. When no signal was forthcoming, I let myself dose; the warmth from the midday sun bewitching my senses into a tentative repose. It wasn't long before Aragorn returned with my father in tow. Thranduil immediately went to me, an expression of utmost attention and care on his face. He smoothed my hair back and appeared to give me a surreptitious once-over.

"How was the birth?" he asked almost absentmindedly.

"Good" my husband supplied. "He did very well, there wasn't any tearing at all."

"And you are well _Ionneg?_ " he asked.

"Yes Adar" I said dryly. "Though I suspect you are practically itching to get ahold of our little one."

"You see right through me" he said, looking rather mischievous. "Where is he?"

"Here" Aragorn supplied, leading the King of the Woodland Realm over to the bassinet.

Leaving my side, my father made his way to my husband's side. Leaning over some, I watched as he drew in a breath, his eyes wide with wonder. His hands lifted as if to take Ainion from his crib, but he seemed to regain his senses at the last minute.

"He is beautiful" Thranduil murmured, his voice sounding rather choked. "You don't often see a babe with a full head of hair."

"He gets his raucous curls from Aragorn" I said cheerfully. "I rather like the color; it reminds me of the moon."

"I should hope you like it" Aragorn said dryly. "You did make him after all."

"It would have been rather strange if he was redheaded" I pointed out.

"If he were redheaded, I might be tempted to question your fidelity" my husband teased.

"Have you named him?" Thranduil asked curiously.

"Yes, his name is Ainion" I replied.

My father gazed into the cradle once more, and a soft smile graced his lips.

"'Tis a fitting name, for sure" he murmured. He gazed at Ainion a moment more before returning his attention to me. "Will you have more?"

I flushed and glanced at Aragorn, who looked rather pale at the thought.

"We…haven't discussed it" I said slowly. "Though it is a possibility." I raised an eyebrow. "In any case, I'll need time to recover before we can even consider such things again."

There was a soft knock on the door and I stiffened before letting go of my sudden tension with a sigh. I couldn't keep baring my figurative 'teeth' and raising my hackles to every poor soul that wanted to see our child. A Guard at the door announced the arrival of Elrond and Aragorn looked to me before opening the door once I gave a nod of assent. My father-in-law looked rather tired, but was alert and practically vibrating with anticipation. His Healer's instinct told him to attend to me, but I bid him look upon Ainion before checking me over. I chuckled as he practically flew to the bassinet and spent a good quarter of an hour exclaiming over the babe with Thranduil. Aragorn took it upon himself to sit with me while the two elves had their time, and moved away accordingly when Elrond finally saw fit to look me over.

At first glance, he could tell that my pallor was fine optimal, and his magic sensed my exhaustion, but it was nothing atypical of someone who had just given birth. My husband helped him draw the covers back and prop my legs up so they could do a physical examination. Thranduil quickly busied himself with straightening Ainion's coverlets.

"Everything looks fine" Elrond commented, drawing up the covers. "The birth canal is already closing. I expect it will be gone within a few a days." He didn't miss my relieved sigh. "I didn't think it would be permanent, but you can never be sure."

"Is it safe for Legolas to become pregnant again?" Aragorn asked worriedly.

"Now?" I asked, aghast.

"No, no" my husband protested. "I mean, at all." He gestured helplessly. "Your body changes so much during and after the process, I can't imagine the amount of stress it goes through. If we're not careful, it could wear you down and cause permanent damage."

"We don't really know the consequences of male elves bearing multiple children" Elrond supplied. "The pregnancies were so rare on their own, the effects weren't clearly documented." He moved away from the bed. "In this instance, Legolas' body has proved it can handle the process just as well as anyone else. I can't think of a reason to stop it in the future, but that doesn't mean there won't be risks."

"It's too soon to be thinking of any of this regardless" Thranduil supplied. "Legolas needs rest and healing, and Ainion needs the attention of both his parents."

As if on cue, Ainion gave an angry wail from the bassinet. Aragorn hastened to pick him up, cradling him carefully on his shoulder. Thranduil and Elrond gathered 'round to 'ooh' and 'aah', while I watched from my acceptably comfortable pillow fort.

"His eyes match yours, Aragorn" Thranduil commented. "Though I see some flecks of blue."

"Infant's eyes are subject to change" Elrond said idly, running a long-fingered hand through Ainion's silvery locks. "I had a niece born with blue eyes, but they had turned brown by the time she was a month old."

After both grandfathers had had their chance to hold Ainion, Aragorn brought him back over to me so I could feed him again.

"How much work has accumulated on my desk in my absence?" I murmured.

"You've only been gone since last night" Thranduil reminded me. "Though I suspect you'll have a considerable amount to do once you return."

"It's best if you allow yourself a day or two to recover" Elrond supplied. "Your body will heal fast, but you might find yourself wishing you had more time to spend with Ainion when all of this is over."

With a rush of dread, I realized I would have very little time at all. It was late spring; a spring that was fast becoming summer. I hadn't finished figuring out the residence fees for Minas Tirith's tenant farmers. They'd already gotten two months free due to my distracted state late in my pregnancy. Thankfully, I'd been smart enough to distribute allotted seedlings well ahead of time. My figuring of the crop might be a little bit off, but at least it would be more and not less. Regardless, the treasurers would be furious that I hadn't bothered to be accurate. Rilien would yet again remind me that if I spent all my time being spot-on I'd be dead.

"What actually happens when I have to go back to work?" I queried. "I can't bring Ainion with me."

"Thranduil and I have both agreed that it is in the child's best interests to have a family member around him at all times, at least for a little while."

"It would be just our luck to hire a nursemaid and have her morph into Yusraa the minute we left the room" Aragorn muttered. "I don't know if I trust anyone that I'm not related to in a twenty mile radius."

"We can trust Gandalf, Faramir, and Eowyn" I said gently. "Gimli's told us we can always rely on him for help, and Adar has been here all this time."

"I know" Aragorn agreed. "But the number of people we can't trust far outweighs those we can." He sighed. "Eventually, Elrond will have to return to Rivendell, and Thranduil to the Greenwood. Gandalf is a wizard, wizards travel, spreading the gifts of Maiar throughout Arda." He laughed hollowly. "We need to learn to protect ourselves and stop relying on higher powers to do our work for us."

"You face a very great foe, Ionneg" Elrond said gently. "Some things can't be done without the aid of many."

"I am King" my husband continued. "Yet I continue to anchor you here, with this problem unresolved. How is that fair to any of you?"

"Meleth" I said gently. "No one is here out of a sense of obligation. We are family and friends, and no matter the hardship we press on together." Ainion grumbled a bit and I winced as his enthusiastic sucking became slightly painful. Pulling him back, I readjusted his head before continuing to speak. "You've told me many times that we can't succumb to panic and fear. Our main goal should be to endeavor to be sensible but cautious."

All of us dropped the subject of Yusraa after that, per silent agreement. It was enough to acknowledge the risk, dwelling upon it wouldn't bring anything remotely positive to fruition. Elrond left to bring me a small meal of assorted cheese and bread, and we discussed the possibility of announcing Ainion's birth to the public within the week. The public had followed news of my pregnancy closely after we had announced it, and they were bound to become suspicious of my lack of presence in the Council Halls. Faramir sent a missive asking Aragorn to speak with him about it as soon as possible, and Gandalf recommended security to be heightened to the greatest level possible during the event. Ainion was a boy, and therefore the direct heir to the Throne. He would shoulder the responsibilities that Aragorn and I had when the time came, and there were those who would see the possibility of it end before it began.

We had to think of attendants, of tutors and scholars. Ainion would require an education and a Council that could grow along with his responsibilities. Both Aragorn and I could manage his weapons' training, but it would still be good to learn from a sword master. We had no way of predicting where our child's proclivities would lie. For all we knew, he could be a scholar. We had plenty of time to understand his likes and dislikes, but palace decorum demanded that certain niceties be put in place after the fact. Both Aragorn and I were adamant that he learn Sindarin, and that he be brought up with a combination of both the culture of Men and that of the Elves.

There would be people who disrespected Ainion for his heritage. His peers would mock him for how he was born, and from whom. Despite the strides Aragorn and I had made when it came to public opinion, there would come a day when Ainion had to shoulder the responsibility himself. When that time came, he would have to be knowledgeable and understanding enough to push forward through societal obstacles. As much as a parent wants to hold their child's hand throughout their life, children also have to learn to stand on their own. Responsibility and insight aren't gained overnight, they are taught. Ainion would have to learn to manage finances, negotiate treaties, pass edicts, take council, and rule government. It was an enormous task; with terrible consequences should we fail.

Come early afternoon, Thranduil and Elrond took their leave of us. Elrond went to consult with Faramir and Thranduil to speak with Gandalf. Ainion had fallen asleep in my arms once more, and Aragorn graciously took him to his cradle. I myself was rather tired, and I could see the rough circles under my husband's eyes that indicated his exhaustion. His hand shook slightly as he moved to pour me a glass of water, and his movements were sluggish and unfocused. As he handed me my drink, I caught his arm, and his gaze met mine. I smiled gently, and reached up to card my fingers through his dark locks.

"Come to bed" I murmured. "I know you are weary."

He appeared to hesitate a moment, one part of him sorely tempted by the offer of a soft pillow, and the other determined to watch over Ainion so I could sleep. A gentle affection washed over me, and I was humbled by his faithful care.

"He might wake up" he said hoarsely, rubbing a tired hand over his face.

"We will hear him" I replied, patting the mattress next to me. "Neither of us are any good to him if we can't see straight."

He faltered a moment more.

"And you feel alright?" he pressed. "You're not hurting?"

"No more than I should be, I am quite comfortable."

I watched in amusement as he did internal battle with himself once more. Slowly, stopping every so often to consider his choice, Aragorn moved to the opposite side of the bed. Slipping off his doublet, he pulled a sleeping shift similar to mine from the drawer and kicked of his boots. Slipping under the covers, his fingers gently curled over my hip, and I hummed in contentment. Soft breath brushed against the shell of my ear, sending happy little shivers to my fingers and toes. Slowly, a cloud of the blackest sleep crowded the corners of my vision. I was intimately aware of Aragorn's presence; of every inhale and exhale leading him into the dregs of slumber. The rough callous of his fingers on my skin was as restful as music, and I drifted into my dreams with his scent surrounding me. Come what may, we had a beautiful son, and we had each other. If there was ever such a thing as a dream come true, I was sure that I lived it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title Translation:**  
>  Est-Rest


	47. Reconciliation and Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Gandalf makes a surprising decision, Legolas and Aragon share a...moment..._

"I need a moment with you, young man."

I blinked at my addressee's choice of title, and turned to face Gandalf. The old wizard's eyes were twinkling behind his bushy beard; I chuckled appreciatively and folded my arms. We had met at the entrance to the Sixth Tier. I was on my way to pick up some herbs for Ainion; Legolas' list tucked safely away in one of my pockets. It had only been two weeks since his birth, but Ainion had already managed to catch a cold twice, and it didn't seem like this one was going to clear up without the aid of medicine. Summer colds were especially common in young children throughout Minas Tirith, and with numerous healers of differing practices and remedial tactics on hand; we weren't particularly worried about any severe complications. Of course, it was incredibly hard to see our child unhappy and uncomfortable, but it wasn't a permanent concern. Legolas was masterful when it came to coddling and mothering; every time I saw him huddled up with Ainion my heart felt as if it would burst with joy. The open, unadulterated adoration in my husband's eyes stole my breath away, and the glowing softness of seeing them together bolstered me through many a hard day at work.

Legolas was out of bed within a day of giving birth. I was against it, but Elrond insisted it was safe, and that it was better for him to be up and about so the blood could travel throughout his body. Within a day or two, he said any discomfort from the birth was gone, for which I was incredibly relieved. Both of us had a hand in creating the life that now breathed among us, but the greater part of the ordeal had fallen upon my husband, and I was overjoyed to see him up and about. I knew Legolas was eager to begin exercising and training, something that he had been forced to limit since his seventh month of pregnancy. Now, two weeks after Ainion's birth, things were slowly returning to their normal pace. I occasionally joined my husband to spar, and I enjoyed watching him hone his skills on the archery field.

I had forced myself to return to my office five days after Legolas had given birth. The amount of paperwork that had accumulated from those few days alone was horrendous. With the invasion of Moria drawing closer, Gloin was practically frantic trying to ascertain every miniscule nicety of the process. Invasion points had to be approved and base positions were a key point of contention. We would begin the process at the gate facing the Dwimordene, and slowly filter troops in from there. The problem with the whole affair was having to force a large invading force through a small entry point in order to infiltrate a complex space. It wasn't going to be pretty or easy; we were at a clear disadvantage. I could tell that Legolas thought the whole affair was a waste of time. He supported my choices, but he wasn't partial to the idea of sending the men of Minas Tirith to their deaths. Still, he understood politics, and he knew we had an obligation to the dwarves in times of war. Thranduil had reluctantly agreed to lend his aid, and with the process already in motion there was little I or anyone else could do to stop it.

I made a conscious effort to visit Ainion in the morning, at midday, and in the evening. Sometimes Legolas brought him down to my office while we were having lunch, and the members of my Council crowded in to peek at Minas Tirith's Firstborn. The announcement had gone well, and the people of the city seemed overjoyed. Gondor's lineage was extended past its current rulers, and if luck held it would continue to do so for many years to come. Faramir was quick to tell us that we had exceeded many expectations that had been placed upon us, and that anyone who saw fit would be hard-put to displace our successes. Despite an incomprehensible amount of doubt, and a mildly chilly reception, we had overcome incredible odds.

"How are you, Gandalf?" I asked curiously.

The old wizard harrumphed and thumped his staff on the ground.

"I am well, I've just come from visiting your little one."

I smirked.

"He does like your fireworks."

"Of course!" the old Maiar exclaimed. "Everyone likes a wizard's fireworks!" He sobered. "But I came to discuss something different with you. If you are needed urgently in the Tower, we can talk at a later time."

I debated over it for a moment. Legolas still had enough of the poultice to spare for a day or more. The herbs I was bringing up were best fresh, but I could ferry them along with an attendant. Still, I knew I would feel better if I assigned the task to someone familiar. Gesturing to a guard, I bid him fetch Lady Eowyn, and to tell her the nature of my summons. She would be able to create the poultice without my help, and Legolas would be there to offer council should she need it. Once the task at hand had been assured of success, I turned back to Gandalf.

"I can spare a few minutes."

Gandalf raised a bushy brow and drew out his pipe. Taking a few minutes to gather his thoughts, he lit it and puffed pensively.

"I've approved Rilien for release" he said finally.

I nearly dropped the herbs I was carrying.

"You _what?!"_

The old wizard huffed and seemed to come dangerously close to rolling his eyes.

"You heard me. I have determined that Rilien is rehabilitated, and I signed the papers for his release this morning."

"You didn't consult me" I said slowly. "Did you consult Legolas?"

"No, I did not."

I raised a brow.

"You must be very confident in your resolve" I said dryly. "Or you need him for something, and you're willing to take the risk." I grimaced. "You realize I'm the father of the babe he tried to kill, don't you?"

"Rilien has proven himself to be an asset to the Kingdom, and to have been under coercion during his attempt on Legolas' life."

"He was an asset to the Kingdom while he was sliding a knife into my husband's back" I growled. "And we don't know if he won't succumb to coercion once again."

Gandalf seemed to deflate, and for once, he seemed terribly old and tired.

"Aragorn, I can't convince you of his change of heart. I've spent many a long hour with him, on your advice, and I think he truly means well. His view of the world is rather dismal, but I don't think he'll learn that kindness and gentleness exists behind bars."

I took a deep breath and held it, rolling Gandalf's sentiments over in my mind. As much as I wanted to rail at my long-time friend for his 'foolishness', I knew better than to dismiss the opinion of a Maiar. If anyone knew the ways of the heart, it was Gandalf. I'd told him to evaluate and council Rilien, and he had done so. I couldn't dismiss his opinion simply because I didn't like the results. My reticence was born out of a sense of protection and reluctance, but I couldn't afford to be mistrustful of Gandalf. He was my friend, and had been for a long time. I would take his word at its worth and have faith in his confidence.

"Where is Rilien now?" I asked, as calmly as possible.

"He is waiting for you in your office" was the gruff reply. "I expect you'll both have much to discuss."

"I'm…trusting you with this" I said slowly. "I hope you know the monstrous ill I'm choosing to set aside in favor of your word."

"I do know" Gandalf replied, extinguishing his pipe. "And believe me; no one knows better than I the risks of putting their faith into something that could potentially be dangerous." He put a comforting hand on my shoulder. "If it helps, some of the things I was most uncertain of turned out to be some of the greatest successes."

"I hope you're right" I muttered, turning away. "For all of our sakes."

We descended to the Fifth Tier together, and said our goodbyes outside of the Council Hall. Gandalf continued on to the Stables, though where he intended to go from there he did not say. I passed Faramir at the entrance to the Agricultural Division, but we didn't stop to talk. Most of the palace officials were busy with the mid-morning rush before lunch. Most like-minded individuals knew to finish the bulk of their work before midday, in order to free themselves up for meetings in the afternoon. Morning Councils were often avoided, if anything for the simple fact that sleepy advisors tended to make very poor political decisions. I'd learned that the first week into my regime, when a treasurer running on two hours sleep suggested we tax poultry ridiculously high and use the stipends to buy woolen hats for the Nobility. Coming to a stop at the door to my office, I noted that it had been left ajar, for which I was grateful. An attendant had been in to tend the fire and there was a decanter of wine on my desk.

Rilien stood when I entered the room, but I waved his bow away impatiently. He wore a deep red robe the color of summer apples with bright green ribbing. It seemed that someone had seen fit to return or replace his bangles; they jangled softly as he returned to his chair. His onyx hair fell in obsidian ripples over his shoulders; it was strung with what looked like tribal beads carved in symbols I recognized as old Beleriand script. The feral observation in his expression was back in place, and it was as if he'd never left. Some part of me shivered at how easily I had dismissed what was now so obviously a threat. How could I have been so careless as to allow Legolas to come to such harm? Everything about Rilien screamed instability, but I had looked right through it.

"Gandalf thought it best if I returned to the Council Hall without my rags" Rilien commented, perhaps sensing my discomfort. "I may have had a change of heart, but the rest of the City doesn't know anything about what happened. If this transition is going to go smoothly, I have to look my part." He smirked wryly. "Even if that part was a farce."

I sat down and poured myself some wine and offered it to Rilien, who accepted graciously.

"I suppose you want to work with Legolas again" I remarked, sitting back wearily.

"That's up to you" he replied cryptically, I raised a brow.

"I asked you if you wanted to, not if I was qualified to allow you."

There was silence for a moment as we regarded each other. Rilien's expression was guarded but ruminative. I knew he could easily tell me what I wanted to hear and mean something entirely different. I hoped he would at least give me some measure of truth, so I could take his statement with somewhat an assurance of verity. After a moment, the dark-haired elf looked away.

"You know it's what I want" he murmured "I don't know why you're asking."

I gave him a shrewd look before relenting somewhat.

"I know how you feel about Legolas" I said softly, and he blanched. Holding up a hand as he opened his mouth to speak, I continued. "I don't blame you for it, Legolas is easy to love." I took a deep breath. "I want to know that if you are to continue to work with him, you won't force yourself upon him."

"I would never do that" Rilien said forcefully. "You don't understand. It's more than infatuation, it's not lust or passion-"

"-You love him" I said simply. He looked miserable, and I sighed. "I'm not going to go into a long-winded speech over my claim to my husband" I said wryly. "Legolas and I don't own each other…we complete each other. I'd even encourage you to treat him as lovingly as you wish, because you certainly have a lot to make up for."

"I know he loves you" Rilien said quietly. "Whenever he talks about you, it's like you're the moon and the stars. I know I can't hope to measure up, but I can't help it."

"Life has not been fair to you" I replied, setting my glass down. "You love to serve Legolas. You make him happy-dare I say it-in ways I cannot. In his own way, he loves you. You're the closest thing to a sibling he's ever had." I tilted my head pointedly. "So, can you…restrain yourself?"

"I'd be a fool to try and woo him" Rilien said bitterly. "He'd push me away, if only to save me from heartbreak. I'm not going to pursue him aggressively; he's seen enough of that with my son."

"Good" I said shortly, pushing back my chair and standing up. "In that case, would you like to meet Ainion?" Rilien looked at me as if I'd suddenly grown an unacceptable number of heads. I smirked and made my way over to the door to my office and held it open. "You do know of the birth, yes?"

"I…don't understand" Rilien said slowly, still not moving from his seat.

"If I am going to put my faith in Gandalf's word, I'm not going to do it in increments" I said calmly. "I'm not going to make you jump through hoops like you've had to in the dungeons." I leaned against the doorframe. "Restricting your access now that you're back would look suspicious to the public in any case. There's bound to be enough questions regarding where you've been."

His unreachable gaze left mine once more, traveling over the top of my desk as he considered my response. I remained at the entrance, waiting for him to make his choice. I could understand his reticence. The last time he'd been allowed in the Royal Suite he'd attempted to kill the King Consort. Revisiting the scene of his ill deeds probably didn't sit well with him. A knock on the door made him jump, and I chuckled before beckoning Faramir into the room. My Steward gave Rilien a veiled glance before inclining his head to me.

"Gandalf bid me come and tell you that the guards involved in Rilien's…situation have been informed of his return to the city. They are under orders to treat him as if he never left. All of them will be informed of the niceties of the case in due time."

"Thank you Faramir, Rilien and I were just about to go up to the Royal Suite."

Faramir's jaw tensed as he clenched his teeth against any incriminating rebuttal. He didn't agree with my lenience, but I couldn't afford to make this any more complicated than it already was. Rilien needed to be reincorporated into our lives with as little fuss as possible. Raising an eyebrow at the aforementioned elf, I left the room. After a few moments, the whisk of his feet on the floor indicated that he followed. He caught up to me at the entrance to the stairwells leading down to the entrance, and I proffered my arm. With a sultry smile for an approaching group of squabbling scribes, he took it with his usual courtesan flair.

It astounded me, really. Just like that, the mask was back up. The glittering stares and the calculating smirks; all of it just fell into place. I shivered as I realized that playing his trained part was as easy for Rilien as breathing. Acting was his forte, he was good at it, and it terrified me. I didn't know which mask was real and which wasn't. A part of me wondered if we had seen the real Rilien at all. As he made a show of clinging to me, spouting flirtatious innuendos and letting his bangles catch the midday sun, I questioned whether Gandalf had known what he was doing at all. The Guards in front of the Royal Suite certainly seemed to think I had lost my mind. They bowed in deference to me, but there were poorly veiled expressions of hatred when they looked at Rilien. He had the sense to drop his pretense of flamboyance in front of them, at least.

Legolas took his Advisor's appearance very well, all things considering. He was sitting in the rocking chair with a blanket slung over his lap. He wore a periwinkle blue robe, and Ainion was snoring peacefully on his shoulder. His smile, which had been wide and bright for me, faltered only slightly when he took in the sight of my accompaniment. Rising from the chair, he came forward to kiss me, though I didn't miss that his gaze remained fixed cautiously on Rilien throughout the exchange.

"It's good to see you, _meleth"_ he murmured. "I'm afraid I've just got him to sleep, but his cold seems to be clearing up." As if on cue, Ainion gave an almighty sneeze and Rilien chuckled. "I see you've brought someone to see him" Legolas continued. "How are you, Rilien?"

"Better" the dark-haired elf replied with a wry smile. "Especially now."

Legolas' expression contorted again, but once more he recovered quickly. Shifting Ainion in his arms, he caught my eye and I gave the briefest of nods. Carefully cradling the head full of silvery curls, Legolas proffered the babe to Rilien, a wan expression on his face. Slowly, as if not quite believing the reality of the situation, the dark-haired elf accepted the tiny bundle from my husband's proffered hands. Settled into the crook of Rilien's arm, Ainion gave a monstrous yawn, gurgling something unintelligible before descending back into slumber. Rilien drew in a shaking breath, and let his free hand trace the soft curve of an alabaster cheek.

"He's beautiful" he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "I never got this chance with my son. You are both so very lucky." He held him a few minutes longer, with a sad half-smile on his lips. Then, his expression abruptly darkened, and he gave Ainion back to Legolas and turned away, his shoulders slumped. "I tried to kill him" he whispered. "How can you stand to be in the same room with me?"

Quietly, Legolas gestured for me to take Ainion, and I did as I was bid. Turning to place him in his cradle, I watched as my husband placed a hand on Rilien's shoulder and suggested they take a walk. I didn't follow, sensing that it was a discussion that did not require my presence. If they were to continue to work together, they would have to come to some type of understanding. Rilien wouldn't be able to work well if he continued to eat himself alive every time he thought of what he had done, and Legolas couldn't waste his days away reassuring him of his forgiveness. I hoped that whatever conclusion they came to, it made both of them happy. Settling into a chair, I rang for some lunch and an attendant appeared to provide me with a sandwich and a cold drink. Once I had finished my meal, I checked on Ainion-who was still comfortably snoring-and drew the curtains separating the nursery from the rest of the Royal Suite to give him some silence. I then turned my attention to the study, where I'd misplaced some papers the day before.

Legolas returned sometime later, alone. He looked harried but marginally cheerful, preferring to slip off his shoes at the entrance and cross the floor to slide his arms around my waist and peek over my shoulder. I hummed distractedly in greeting, flipping through a tedious stack of missives outlining the upcoming trade season.

"Those are my estimates you're flipping through" Legolas remarked, carding a hand through my hair. "Is there anything I can help you find?"

"I'm looking for last-year's reports on our trade with Rohan" I grumbled.

"Well, you're not anywhere near it" my husband chuckled, gently loosing the parchment from my grasp and setting it aside. "Here, I keep old documents in this drawer on the left." He bent and opened it, shuffling distractedly 'till he pulled out a small slip of parchment. "Ah yes, Rohan did little trade with us last year, though that's not anything out of the ordinary." He passed the item to me. "What do you need it for anyway?"

"One of the Treasurers keeps insisting that Rohan's minimal trade is a sore loss" I huffed. "He insists we figure out the percentage that we're missing and deduct it from the people via some form of tax."

"You poor thing" Legolas sighed. "Accosted by recalcitrant treasurers in the depths of the Council Hall."

"Have you got everything sorted with Rilien?" I asked curiously.

Legolas sat back and pursed his lips.

"I think we understand each other a little more. I was certainly surprised you brought him up here, but from what Rilien said, Gandalf surprised you this morning with the news of his release." He smiled affectionately at me. "You handled it well, _meleth_. I'm very proud of you."

"I'm glad you think so" I murmured, turning round and cupping his cheek. I smiled playfully and let my other hand settle on his hip. "If I did so very well, I think I'm rather deserving of an award."

Legolas eyes glittered with flirtatious mirth. Catching the hand that stroked his cheek; he lifted it to his lips, letting his breath ghost over my knuckles.

"Are you sure?" he purred. "I'm afraid I can be quite… _enthusiastic_ in my gratuity."

I chuckled and gently tugged with the hand that was still on his hip, drawing us flush against each other. Legolas' eyelashes fluttered as I brushed my lips over his, savoring the moist gossamer yield of his flesh. We kissed languidly; savoring the taste of each other as we hadn't had the opportunity to in a very long time. There was no blazing roar of desire curling in the depths of my being; only a soft, steady thrum of yearning. It built patiently, spiraling upwards from the dregs of my soul to suffuse my limbs. The parchment on trade fluttered to the floor as I let both hands card through Legolas' silken wealth of golden hair. He shuddered, his breath catching as his head lolled backwards. I took advantage of the movement, trailing soft kisses down the column of his throat, teasing the expanse of skin at the crook of his neck. His fingers came up to fist the front of my tunic and drag the fabric upwards and over my head. I shivered as dexterous hands slid over my skin, painting wordless whispers on my covetous flesh. My right hand found the clasp to his robes and I hesitated, drawing back to look into his heated cerulean gaze.

"Is it alright?" I murmured. "Will you be alright?"

He smiled lustfully and my stomach flipped.

"I am healed, Aragorn" he murmured. "I want you."

Slowly, I slid the clasp out of place; stepping back a bit so the robe could slide over his shoulders, down his hips to pool at his feet. My gaze swept ravenously over the ivory planes of his chest, lingering on the soft buds of his nipples before moving lower. My hands traveled the soft slope of his belly; devoid of any sign that two weeks ago there had been a child within. I knelt to press my mouth against the angular curve of his hip, delighting in the hungry shudder it drew from above. My tongue mapped the insides of his thighs, my fingers stroking through the soft nest of golden curls to take hold of his aching need. Lifting my gaze to Legolas', I watched as his mouth opened in a soundless exclamation as my hand began to stroke. His legs trembled and he steadied himself on the desk with one arm.

I drank in the proclivity of his response; watching how his back arched, his cheeks flushing a soft roseate shade. His limbs drew taut and his hips flexed as he fought the instinctual urge to thrust forward into my grasp. One hand rose up to cover his face in a gesture that was half-passion and half-embarrassment. Legolas was never flamboyant when it came to love-making. He was shy yet responsive, proper and suggestive at the same time. I would never tire of the throaty moans that fell from his lips, or the yearning dexterity of his undulating form.

When I was sure he was nearing the finality of his pleasure, I withdrew my hand and stood. He gave a mewl of disappointment, but I silenced him with a fervent kiss, plunging my tongue into his mouth until he could do naught but tremble in my arms. When we had both had our fill of each other, we pulled back, breathing heavily. Gently, Legolas laced my hands in his and drew me out of the study, across the room to our bed. Once there, he pushed me down and I allowed it; moving backwards onto the mattress and propping myself up so I could watch him undo my breeches. With deliberate fingers, Legolas drew the fabric from my legs, letting it drop to the floor before sliding up the length of my body to rest on top of me. He lowered his head to suckle the skin of my neck before rotating his hips and pressing down, grinding suggestively against the core of my desire.

I threw back my head and groaned, my arms reaching 'round so I could knead the soft flesh of his backside. I returned the movement and he stilled, a hungry moan ripped from his lips. We continued as such for a while, our limbs entangled in a sensual dance, touching but not quite completed. Soon, there was a thin but delicate sheen of sweat encompassing our bodies, the flush of arousal rising to conquer all in a haze of wanton need. My limbs felt connected to his; as if we were one being of unstoppable, inevitable end; bound to finish in unification with no way to stop it.

"Legolas" I murmured, my hand rising to cup the back of his head. My hips jerked as he responded eagerly to the sound of his name. "Legolas, I won't last if you keep this up."

With what seemed to be great effort, he wrenched himself away and rolled off me, his hips undulating into the bed, instinctively seeking friction before he regained control of himself. Sapphire eyes burned into me in a licentious haze of lust.

"Oil" he huffed. "Hurry."

Righting myself, I fumbled in the drawer for the small vial I kept on hand. It was better warmed but for now it would do. I doubted either of us would notice the difference at this point. Returning to the bed, I popped the cork and knelt on the coverlets.

"Turn over" I bid him, pushing against a creamy thigh.

" _U"_ he replied, shifting his hips once more. "Like this."

Straddling his legs, I drizzled the oil over my fingers; pausing to let it sink in before beginning the process of preparing him. It had been a while, and it took longer than usual until I was satisfied he wouldn't feel any discomfort. Soon however, he was pushing back against my fingers, his hands grasping the coverlets as he pressed his cheek into the pillow. His moans turned into pleading as I pleasured him gently, crooking my fingers just-so to draw out the shivers, placing gentle kisses at the base of his spine.

"Stop teasing" he gasped, reaching back and catching my wrist. " _Take_ me, Aragorn."

I withdrew and reached for the oil once more, covering my length before casting it to the side. Stretching out over him, I drew his hips up; pulling back 'till he rested on his knees with his head pillowed on his arms. Slowly, with a calm deliberateness I pushed forward. His body accepted me with little resistance; I had been very thorough. He drew in a ragged breath with my movement, desperate and responsive until I was fully buried within him. It was then that I stilled, waiting for his permission before I began to move.

" _Sl'i"_ he whispered, arching his back slightly. "Now, _meleth."_

I groaned at the first thrust, fighting the urge to finish right there right then. Each plunge downwards into that tight, unrelenting heat pooled in my groin, sending throbs of unparalleled pleasure to every point in my body. Legolas responded magnificently, arching up to meet me, his hips working gloriously as his muffled cries filled the room. Each shivering contraction threatened to wring me dry; pulling me to the brinks of what I knew was perfect pleasure.

" _Ai!"_ Legolas cried. "R-right there, oh _yes._ Please, _please more!"_

"Do you feel good?" I murmured, splaying my hand across his chest and drawing him up to me. Legolas gasped raggedly, his eyes rolling back as I worked myself into him.

"Y-yes" he whimpered. "Oh, meleth, I'm going t-to…"

He groaned and gasped, his hips jerking erratically. I knew he was close, and I planned to follow directly after.

"Come for me" I whispered, catching the edge of his pointed ear between my teeth and pulling gently.

Legolas stiffened, his body going ridged as the sheets below us were striped in white ribbons of pleasure. I moaned in response, gasping as I reached my end and released inside him, burying my face in the soft fall of his hair.

We stayed that way for a while, trembling with pleasurable aftershocks. Eventually, Legolas sagged down onto the covers and I followed with him; withdrawing and turning myself onto my side so I faced him. My husband drew me to him and I sought his mouth; sucking languidly on his bottom lip while my hands wandered the glorious softness of his body. Legolas was pliant in the aftermath of his release; smiling absentmindedly as his sky-blue gaze searched my face.

"I think I will lock Rilien up every other day if this is the response I get to his release" I remarked, stretching absentmindedly.

"Don't jest" Legolas murmured, nuzzling his nose into the crook of my neck. "I'm proud of you; you made a fair and just decision, despite your knowledge of the risks."

"Every other week then" I muttered, lacing our fingers together. "So you can be proud of me twice a month."

"I am always proud of you" the blonde-haired elf whispered. "You are my husband, my lover, the father of my child." He accepted my mouth as I offered it, humming contentedly. " _Mmm,_ and you are the man I traversed the hardships of the Fellowship with, the man I fell in love with. I watch you govern Gondor, and I couldn't love you more." He shivered as my fingers snaked lower, a suggestive grin creeping over his features. "Again, _meleth?_ Ainion may wake up."

"And again" I murmured. "Over and over again, I love you. I shall never grow tired of showing you how much of a place you hold in my heart."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **General Translations:**
> 
> "U"-No
> 
> "Sl'i-Now


	48. Overjoyed...Twice More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The Council debates over invading Moria; Legolas gives Aragorn some surprising news._

Late spring waxed and waned; giving way to a stifling summer and the first wave of what promised to be a bustling trade season. Emissaries came from the West with promises of plentiful goods, and fields recently sown with seed gave forth shoots of anticipatory green. Legolas' gardens were flooded with warm-weathered blooms and fragrant herbs. We spent many a peaceful evening there with Ainion; looking out over the nodding heads of perfumed flowers. Legolas took time out of his busy schedule to toil over that which we enjoyed, and seeing his work in fruition was immeasurably rewarding. My husband was immensely proud of his botanical efforts, and it warmed my heart when he led us 'round the sixth tier gesturing excitedly at every new agricultural addition.

Ainion was clever; his bright grey eyes following our actions wherever we went, and his lips forming imitations of our words come midsummer. He adored the outdoors, preferring to spend his time tucked in Legolas' arms in the gardens, staring out at the greenery with a wondering expression on his face. We often took him out of the Rammas Echor to revel in the gloriousness of windswept plains and nodding fronds of painstakingly sown wheat that was quickly turning to gold. We made a trek to Rohan when the summer was coming to an end and the weather wasn't so blisteringly hot. Eowyn went with us, and took it upon herself to snatch Ainion away whenever she got the chance; sitting at the entrance to the Great Hall and cooing soft missives into his tiny ears. He would pull at her golden locks and stare into her eyes 'till Faramir would kindly but firmly remind her that Ainion did have parents that would like the chance to hold him at least once a day.

Gimli wrote to us announcing that he and his wife were expecting another child. Gror was apprehensive but excited, and he sent us his own letter; tucked away in the missive that his father had delivered. I was happy for them, I had feared that Gror would have a hard time readjusting to life underground. It seems that my worries were for naught, and his instincts had rung true; he'd made the best of his livelihood in the face of change. He wrote of training to be a blacksmith, as Gimli had rather happily boasted that he seemed to have a hand for it. I laughed over his flowery descriptions of the glowing heat of the forge and the strike of iron against steel. Legolas, with his usual enthusiasm, threw together a package of baby-related gifts.

"No axes, of course" he commented as he bounced Ainion on one arm, handing the bundle off to a courier.

Yusraa was, once again, unnervingly absent. Since Ainion's birth, she seemed to have gone to ground. Even Gandalf seemed to think that she might have left us entirely for however brief a time, but at the same time cautioned us not to take our time of peace for granted. We knew better then to lower our guard, especially against such a formidable foe. I maintained the rotation of the guards and held regular sweeps of the Council to make sure that no unsavory individuals had integrated themselves into our political midst. It was painstaking work, that took away from other, more publically-oriented affairs. Still, I knew the moment we were careless would be when Yusraa would strike again.

Rilien had re-integrated himself into our lives with his usual finesse. He and Legolas continued with their joint agricultural work as if they'd never been apart. The dark-haired elf made no effort to pursue my husband, for which I was grateful. Still, he was no less intimate, preferring to wrap himself around Legolas' feet or sit with his head in his lap when we held meetings together. Thranduil assured me that my spouse's tolerance of it was no more than an indication of his amicability. Legolas was affectionate, but not flirtatious. All of us did our best to make sure Rilien felt welcome and not ostracized. Even without his devious flair and chauvinistic humor, he was still as smart as a whip with the observatory skills of a bird of prey. Making him feel inadequate did no one any favors.

The dark-haired elf had expressed his desire to meet his son, but Thranduil balked at the idea. None of us knew what Morohtar's reaction would be to his father. They could just as easily ally themselves against us than slaughter each other, and I was rather inclined to avoid both circumstances if I could. Yusraa had filled her grandson's head with poison against his father. Rilien could promise to be restrained and civilized till he was blue in the face, but the minute Morohtar cursed in his direction and called him a traitor all could change. Declaring your separation from family ties was easy; when faced with rejection, one couldn't say where Rilien's cards would fall.

Autumn was well into showing its colors when Legolas' belly once again began to swell. Thranduil had left for the Greenwood come midsummer, but he came charging right back once he heard the news. I honestly couldn't fathom why he bothered leaving at all. The King of the Woodland Realm was utterly smitten with his grandson, and it was obvious he could barely stand not seeing Legolas at least once a day as he had become accustomed to. He had his own rooms in the city and members of his Council to assist him should problems arise in the Greenwood. Departure brought him no obvious joys, though it was clear that he still loved his homeland dearly. Legolas often urged him to stay, but each time he shook his head with a small smile on his face.

"It reminds him of my mother" Legolas murmured after one such discussion. "He's not quite ready to relinquish his hold over a land that still sings with her spirit."

Elrond was positively stymied that we had managed to get ourselves with child son soon after Ainion's birth. I myself thought the process rather straightforward, but a chuckling Legolas explained that it was nearly unheard of for elves to concieve in such rapid succession.

"We are truly blessed" he sighed. "Illuvatar has gifted us with the joys of children."

Fall passed into yet another winter; with yield from the harvest filling our stores to bursting. Farmers who toiled outside the walls during the summer retreated into the slightly warmer interior of Minas Tirith with their families. Trade slowed, and by the time the first snows touched the castle turrets, it had stopped altogether. A sleepy, ivory-strewn pall descended upon the city in pearlescent drifts. Missives came from the Shire and Rohan inquiring after our Midwinter arrangements. As much as I would have liked to have visited friends during such a festive time of the year, Legolas' condition made it clear we could make no room for travel, especially in the cold and snow. Moreover, Gloin had become increasingly insistent that we come to a definitive conclusion on the invasion of Moria.

He visited soon after the festivities of Midwinter had ended, though Gimli did not accompany him. A week-long tactical debate ensued in the Wartime Hall. The Council was split in two when it came to the subject of honoring our promises of wartime aid. Preserving a standing army for any length of time is a costly task, and we had already figured that we would be camped outside of Moria for more than a month. We had to secure food and ration supplies, along with forging armor and sharpening weapons. Batallions had to be formed-taking rank and title into accordance-and summons to war required composition and dispersion. Families with members who normally earned money throughout the year had to be given a set wage for the span of time when their loved ones were away, and children who would be left parentless with their fathers going to war had to have living arrangements provided for them.

"Minas Tirith's treasury owes no debts to a fruitless war mission" an elderly magistrate quavered.

The lights in the Wartime hall burned low in their brackets. It was well past midnight, but policy dictated that the meeting go on until some sort of decision had been made. It was astounding how a half-asleep gathering of councilmen who had practically drunk themselves under the tables could still remain so steadfastly stubborn. The dwarves delegation was looking positively mutinous and I was afraid I'd be picking up the pieces of my advisors with an icepick if someone didn't say something polite and agreeable. As King of Gondor, I could approve or waive edicts at my leisure, but the ultimate decision came down to a unified agreement from the Council. I could no more send my warriors to war than write a doctrine stating that every chicken in the city was to be painted pink and laden with jewels without their approval. Gandalf sat on my left, a grave and studious expression on his face. Of all of us, he seemed the most alert, and I desperately hoped he'd come up with something affluent and finite so we could all go to bed.

"Magistrate, we recognize your reticence to the idea of the invasion" Legolas murmured, shifting uncomfortably in the chair to my right. "But no matter any of our misgivings, the law remains the same. We have promised our aid to any ally during times of war."

"But does this truly count as a war?" a younger judiciary member countered. "The orcs in Moria have made no move against the dwarves. The Mountain has been vacant of its creatures for centuries. Is 'recovery' now grounds for the definition of 'war'?"

"Technicalities in syntax do not change the rights and responsibilities of Gondor" my husband sighed, running a hand down the swell of his stomach. Though his posture was graceful; his countenance upright and serene, I could sense the discomfort and pain that hours of sitting had brought him. "If we are to remain a reliable and responsible ally, it would serve us well to remain consistent in our promises."

"We cannot in good faith send our young men to die for a lost cause!" the magistrate squawked, rising to unsteady feet and thumping his cane. "Ever has Gondor been reliable and trustworthy, but we are not foolhardy!"

"You have my word that it shall not be a fruitless effort" Gloin growled, rising from his seat. "We have the aid of Thranduil's troops as well as Gondor, not to mention our own soldiers."

"What will you do with Moria once you have reclaimed it?" the younger advisor demanded. "Keep on mining until you strike greater terrors than ever before?"

"The dwarves would see the great city restored to its former glory, as a tribute to the people who have died there defending it" Gandalf said gruffly, speaking for the first time. "They also seek to reclaim the great amount of stolen treasure that lies in its depths. Both Gondor and the Greenwood are guaranteed a share of the treasure should it be recovered. Gloin and I have spoken personally regarding this matter, and we agreed that any mining endeavors would be better saved for other locations."

"Further emphasizing the futility of this mission" the magistrate croaked. "Gondor has no need for treasure, and why would we want to save a city whose sole purpose would be that of a monument?"

Gandalf-who looked very much like he'd enjoy turning the magistrate into an otter-thumbed his staff on the ground twice and spun it in a circle. There was a great flash of light and I blinked stupidly as the room suddenly filled with a cacophony of loud snoring. Glancing to my right, I noticed that Legolas seemed torn between laughing hysterically and looking completely horrified. As the streaks of residual light dancing across my vision cleared, I was confronted with a roomful of advisers and dignitaries alike who seemed to have forgotten what they were doing and fallen asleep on the spot. Gandalf remained fully conscious to my left, a serene and self-satisfied expression on his face.

"Did you just… _knock out_ a full Council Session?" I asked incredulously.

"Even wizards need to sleep" the old Maiar replied cryptically. Turning away, he made a calm and stately path to the door. "Be sure to be back in this room before sun high" he commented idly. "The spell will weary off come lunch, and I imagine you'll have some explaining to do."

At a loss for words, I watched as the door shut behind him. Legolas chuckled tiredly and attempted to get out of his chair before grimacing and gesturing at my hand in a world-weary sort of way. Hastening to get up, I proffered my arm at the edge of his seat and he took it gratefully. Kicking the axe of a sprawling emissary to the side, we beat a casual trail out of the Wartime Hall, through the Council Chambers and out onto the streets. Taking a deep breath of cool winter air, I was struck for the first time how stuffy and hot the room we had occupied had been. Legolas sighed contentedly, and tilted his head back to gaze at the stars; the pale face of the moon spilling iridescent rays across his alabaster features.

"I'm sorry you had to sit through all that" I murmured as we fell into step. "I know how tired you are."

"My presence was needed to estimate the number of agricultural resources required to supply the troops" he replied, running idle fingers down the length of my arm. "Rilien's been hold up with that Chancellor from the South, so I had no one to stand in for me." He leaned his head on my shoulder. "In any case, I wanted to be there to support you."

"If you want to rest tomorrow, I can have someone send for you when the conversation turns to supplies" I offered.

Lifting his robe to step over a glittering patch of snow, Legolas shook his head.

"Neither of us can afford to be inconsistent when it comes to such a serious affair. My presence gives voice to my approval, and my absence my nonchalance."

"As long as you don't overtax yourself" I insisted, turning him to face me directly. We stood at the entry way to the tower of Ecthelion, the guards on either side if the arch taciturn and silent. Carefully, I let my hands cup the upward slope of his belly, smiling wryly as I got a swift answering kick in response. "I know how hard this pregnancy has been for you…it's different than when you had Ainion."

Legolas expression of stubborn resilience melted into one to tenderness and appreciation.

"Ai Aragorn" he murmured, cradling my cheek with one hand and covering my apprehensive fingers with the other. "If only all husbands were as attentive as you." He moved forward to place a kiss on my cheek, nudging the fall of my hair aside to place his lips against my ear. "But, I confess, there is something I must tell you" he whispered.

I raised a curious brow.

"Oh? And what might that be?"

"I am wearier, and harder-pressed to find contentment in this pregnancy because I am not carrying one babe, but two."

He left me there, in a state of stunned silence. While my mind struggled to process the news he had imparted upon me, my husband made his own leisurely way back up to our chambers. It wasn't until he was well out of sight that I realized I had let the person who was carrying our child-our _children_ -walk the entirety of the Ecthellion staircase on his own. The sensation of utter horror that encompassed me was all-consuming. I took the stairs two at a time, only to catch Legolas leaning on the banister at the top with an amused expression on his face. Stumbling towards him with what I am sure was an utterly ridiculous expression on my face, I caught his hands.

"Are you sure?" I demanded.

He lifted a graceful brow.

"Unless our child has two sets of feet to kick me with, I am happy to say I am very confident we shall be expecting twins" he said dryly.

"But how shall we care for them?!" I demanded. "What of when I go to Moria?"

"You know, there is this funny little term for someone called a nursemaid" Legolas said idly, picking at a thread on his sleeve. "I'm sure I can rustle one up out of the hundreds of people who live in Minas Tirith." He took my arm and began to firmly steer us toward the Royal Suite. "And as for your visit to Moria, the only thing I want you to worry about is returning safe and sound."

"What if they're identical?" I muttered, stumbling slightly on the hem of my robe.

I was graced once again with my husband's cynical brow.

"And if they are?"

"How will we tell them apart?" I mused. "Should we put them in specific colors? Maybe we should make them wear bonnets."

My husband chortled fondly as we passed through the doors to our chambers. Shrugging out of his heavy council robes, he turned and cupped my cheek.

"Darling, I'm sure that each of them will have their own separate qualities that will allow us to discern who they are easily enough." He hummed softly under his breath for a moment. "Though, if you're truly worried about getting mixed up, I suppose we can fashion them patterned socks." When I continued to look stymied he huffed impatiently. "Estel, you're having two children, not a herd of wargs. Wipe that ridiculous expression off your face."

"Three children doesn't count as a herd?" I finally mumbled stupidly.

"No, _meleth"_ my husband groused, turning away to slip off his shoes. He kicked them into a corner and circled behind me so he could undo the clasp to my cape. "Three is a trio."

"What will we do with all of them?"

"Oh, I don't know Aragorn" Legolas snapped, throwing my cape over the back of a chair and folding his arms. "Maybe we should put them in the Throne Room and make them sit on chairs until you've wrapped your head around the fact that you're a father of three."

"We can do that?"

He threw up his hands in defeat.

"I'm going to bed" he sighed, moving towards me once more and capturing my lips with his. My thoughts fled for a moment as I responded automatically, wrapping an arm around his waist and opening my mouth to accept the invasion of his tongue. Desire flared for a moment and I made a soft sound of disappoint me as he pulled away and stepped back. "If you're going to stand there and be dense about this you can do it alone."

It was some time before I gathered myself enough to follow him under the covers. Legolas watched my progress towards the bed with heavy eyes; sapphire peeking out under golden lashes as he moved over to make room for me. Curling my fingers over his hip, I rolled him over so we faced each other on our sides. A slender elven hand reached up to trace the curve of my lips, the other splayed wide on my chest. Dipping my head, I wordlessly offered him a kiss, which he took with fervor; breathing deep through his nose as his mouth worked in synchrony to mine. After a time, I pulled away, watching as Legolas stretched languorously, a gratified smile gracing his lips.

"Sometimes, I wonder how it is that you love me" I murmured.

He chuckled and threaded his fingers through my hair.

" _Meleth_ , you are the light of my soul, and the song in my heart" he whispered. "I am proud to bear your children, even when you are silly and soft about accepting how many there may be."


	49. Black Apocalypse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Thranduil comes to Aragorn with a strange request._

I had long ago resigned myself to the fact that paperwork was something inevitable and unavoidable. As King, it was my responsibility to thoroughly and patiently read proposals of the people and other countries alike, no matter how tedious or insignificant I thought the subject at hand. Some topics that made their way across my desk were utterly outrageous, but I'd rather be accused of being over-thorough than loosely acquiescent. Still, staring at the mounting list of pre-trade season access applications, I couldn't help but think that perhaps there was a point where a man must walk away in favor of going into hysterics. Normally, Legolas would go over anything that had to do with the management of goods, but he was late into his pregnancy and seemed barely able to keep his eyes open for more than five minutes let alone lucidly approve the requests of thousands of vendors across what seemed to be the entirety of Middle Earth. Rilien, upon catching wind of the mountain of possible paperwork coming his way, had insisted he was in need of a sabbatical and was nowhere to be found within the judicial circuit.

Glaring at the first of innumerable parchments; I reflected bitterly on the moment when Faramir had entered my office and asked me if I was busy. I had-of course-just finished my own work for the day, and was about to head back to the Royal Suite to check on my husband. Ironically, I had responded to my Steward's query with _'I'm rather at a loss of what to do with myself'_ , and was subsequently swamped with a task that wasn't necessarily mine but still had to be done all the same. Drawing my pen and inkwell from the depths of my desk, I wearily resigned myself to a sleepless night. I knew that nobody expected me to finish my task until several days hence, but I didn't want it to get in the way of my everyday duties for longer than was necessary. For a long time, the only sound in my office was the soft scratching of pen against paper; tempered by the faintly melodic chime of the tip hitting the edge of the inkwell every few signatures. The shadows spilling in through the windows grew long and an attendant came in to replenish the fire and light the candles. Darkness had truly fallen when a knock at the door made me jump. Hovering between irritation at the interruption and relief that I would have a chance to stop for a little while, I sat back and glared at the deadbolt.

"Enter" I said idly, wincing as my voice rasped from disuse.

Faramir swept into the room with a single rolled-up parchment in his grasp. He looked tired himself, and I remembered that he had mentioned that he was due to sit in on a Council Session regarding the Treasury.

"A while ago you asked that I retrieve Rilien's reference for you to look over" he commented, setting the offending item down on my desk. "I'm sorry it's taken me so long to find it, but I'd rather lost it to be honest. It was through pure stroke of luck I found it tucked away in the employee files."

"I'd completely forgotten about it" I confessed, unrolling the missive and studying the curling calligraphy within. My Steward stood at silent attention as I let my eyes drift down the piece of paper, my mood growing darker with each sentence I read. "I need to have Gandalf look over this, immediately."

"I can fetch him for you" Faramir offered, though he looked like he was about to collapse on the spot. "I think I remember him mentioning that he'd be working with that power grid in the kitchens."

I eyed the haggard looking man for a moment before taking pity on him.

"No, it's fine. Go home, Faramir. I'll hunt him down once I finish all of this rubbish."

The look of relief on Faramir's face was evident, and I smiled wryly.

"Thank you, Aragorn, have a good night."

"And you as well."

The door shut behind him and I sighed and turned back to the task at hand. The sooner I got it done, the sooner I could go to sleep. The hours slipped by and the candles burned low but still I toiled, occasionally pausing to stoke the fire or smoke my pipe. It wasn't until much later, well past midnight, that I received another visitor that I was forced to contend with. Thranduil swept into the room without knocking, and took inventory of the room before sitting himself in a chair across from me. Even at such a late hour he still looked immaculate in deep green robes, his face a picture of serenity and contemplation. Studying my face, he leaned forward and folded his hands on the desk. Scratching out another signature in a world-weary sort of way, I placed my pen in the inkwell and sat back, waiting for him to speak.

"I think it would be wise to move Morohtar to Minas Tirith" he said calmly.

"You're going to have to give me more incentive than that" I said dryly.

Thranduil sighed.

"My people are unaccustomed to keeping prisoners for long stretches of time, let alone one of their own. The Council is calling for his release. As your husband, the responsibility of Legolas' protection falls into your hands. You have the power to veto the possession of a prisoner if he or she is a threat to one of your people who has high political status. I can sign federal possession of Morohtar's confinement over to you. He would be escorted to Minas Tirith by my people, and then left in your capable hands."

"You forget that he has a father in the city who would likely protest against his son being imprisoned."

Thranduil paused and gazed into the fire.

"I think Rilien would understand…we have spoken at length of his son since my return, and he is aware of the danger he poses to Legolas. If anything, his feelings for my son might keep him from doing anything…drastic."

"It seems unfair" I said idly, toying with the edge of a scrap of parchment. "To use Rilien's feelings for Legolas to keep him from doing something undesirable."

"I am just aware of the moral dilemma as you are" was the dry reply. "Ultimately, we are faced with two options. In three weeks time, the Council will vote to have Morohtar released. He hasn't had any counseling regarding his motives, we do not offer such services in the Greenwood, he has been left to fester. The likelihood of him returning to Yusraa is very high, and I think Legolas has enough on his plate without two crazed lunatics chasing him about. Adversely, you can take control of Morohtar's legal status and have him imprisoned here, with the opportunity to be counseled by Gandalf." He tilted his head to the side and smiled wryly. "I think the man who is currently pregnant with two of your children cannot afford to risk anything at this time, and when they are born the stakes will be even higher. What would you rather do? Leave the situation to chance….or take things into your own hands while you still have a choice?"

In the end, I acquiesced to Thranduil's reasoning, if only because he was right. I didn't like having two direct descendants of Ungoliant under my figurative 'roof', but I liked the idea of leaving Morohtar to roam even less. Before I signed any papers, Rilien and I sat down had a long, in-depth conversation on the matter. The dark-haired elf agreed that it was probably for the best, and seemed to genuinely look forward to having his son in the city. He seemed grateful for the fact that Gandalf was willing to help him and continued to say that if there was anything he could do to expedite the process, he would; though he understood that he might have to stay out of the way for a while. Legolas was-understandably-more reluctant, but he agreed that it was the best decision possible, and admitted that he couldn't think of anything better.

As it happened, we had little time to think of Morohtar for the next few days. A week before his arrival Legolas went into labor and gave birth to two beautiful twin girls. We christened them Vanya and Miriel, and Ainion was immediately taken with them. Both had dark brown hair and sky-blue eyes, though unlike their brother they lacked even the slightest hint of pointed ears. Legolas assured me that this bothered him not at all, as he was simply happy they were alive and well, and I was of a similar mind. Though nearly identical, both had distinguishable personality traits that helped us discern who was who. Vanya was loud-with a set of lungs that would put an Oliphaunt to shame-and Miriel was quiet and curious. Thranduil was practically head-over-heels for them, and when Legolas and I were otherwise preoccupied he took to toting them wherever he went, Ainion hanging about his shoulders with a goofy smile on his face. Elrond was-of course-more subdued about the whole affair but no less delighted. He especially seemed to take to Miriel, who cried for him if he wasn't within arms' reach. Legolas took a day longer to recover from the birth than last time, but soon threw himself back into his work with all the fervor an individual who was nursing two infants every hour and a half could muster.

The day before Morohtar's arrival, I finished my work and the morrow's work in order to ensure that I would have my 'hands free' so-to-speak. The day in question dawned bleak and grey, and Legolas complained mightily of the chill. Thranduil and Elrond had taken the children and sequestered them in the Citadel with an army of about fifty guards. Legolas rolled his eyes and insisted it was overkill, but I would not be dissuaded. A messenger came to us in the gardens to inform us that the escort was nearly at the city Gates, and Rilien, Legolas and I descended to the first tier to meet Gandalf who was looking unusually tense and was smoking his pipe with a ferocity that was startling. He had both his staff and his sword, and he gripped both with knuckles that were white as he gazed at the Gate. I myself had only brought my sword, and Legolas and Rilien were unarmed. Rilien stood behind us, and his cheek would occasionally brush against my husband's shoulder as he peeked between us to gaze at the entrance. Legolas would murmur a word of reassurance to him in Sindarin here and there, but I was far to preoccupied to catch any clarity from their brief exchanges. We had attempted to keep the event in question as low-key as possible, but a small gathering of citizens was staring to form, curious as to what the King, his Consort, his Consorts Chief Advisor and the Great Wizard Gandalf were doing loitering about the First Tier.

After a time, the low drone of the traditional elf-horn heralded the escort's arrival. The guards standing by the gate shot me a look and I nodded. Slowly, the great doors swung inward and a company of seven elves swept through, their spears glinting in the wane mid-morning light. They rode magnificent steeds and a figure in the midst of them was shrouded in ragged black, partially obscured by the company that had brought him. Swiftly, the elves dismounted and a stable-hand came forth to lead their horses away. One of the warriors reached up to offer Morohtar a hand but he leapt down on his own, straightening and observing the greeting party before him with a vacant expression. If Rilien was the embodiment of night, with his changeling eyes and midnight-black hair; his son was the exact opposite. Morohtar's hair was so blonde it was nearly white, and his eyes were the color of emeralds nestled in a sea of grass. His face was angular like Rilien's, but he was slighter and shorter; his form more waif-like than muscular. I was sure he had gotten his looks from his mother, and a glance back at Rilien confirmed it; he was looking at his son like he was seeing a ghost. He made to step forward, out from between Legolas and I, but my husband hissed a warning and shoved him back.

It was too late.

Morohtar's head whipped around, and his eyes widened in what must have been instinctual recognition. Immediately, his stance change to that of the aggressor, his lips curling in a feral snarl as he crouched as if in preparation to spring. What happened next occurred so fast it left me breathless and panicking. Morohtar's hand shot skyward and he growled something in a language I did not recognize, harsh and guttural. The air around us shifted, and I was intensely aware of the manifestation of a powerful spell. Legolas yelped and I watched in horror as he was dragged up into the air by a seemingly invisible hand, rising above us with terrible swiftness. Gandalf had thrown back his cape and was shouting something but I did not heed it, casting about desperately with my eyes as I hunted something to climb in order to bring my husband down. At the same time there was a terrible gasping sound and my gaze returned to my air-borne lover to see that he was choking; an invisible force rendering him unable to breathe. I made to cry out, but Rilien was faster; his lips forming a desperate 'no!' as he launched himself at Morohtar with a speed that left me staggering. They went flying across the courtyard and into a wagon that was filled with several mason jars. Pottery shattered and wood splintered with an ear-splitting crash and for a moment, neither moved. Looking up again, I was relieved to see that Legolas was no longer choking, but with Morohtar's concentration broken he was beginning to fall.

Gandalf took a deep breath and closed his eyes, his hand coming forward to cup the single jewel at the tip of his staff. Gradually, it began to glow and Legolas' descent slowed. At the same time, the rubble that was once a wagon shifted and Rilien went flying across the entryway, his head colliding with the flagstones with a sickening crunch. The dark-haired elf shuddered, then grew very, very still. Immediately, Morohtar's focus returned to Legolas and I watched as he and Gandalf began a contest of wills. Helpless, I observed as my husband alternatively gasped for air and struggled to breath, rising and falling with the virulent currents of their combatant powers. Determined to help, I drew my sword and charged towards the green-eyed elf, my mouth set in a grim line. Just when I was within swinging distance, I collided with what seemed to be a brick wall. A burning, scorching sensation tore through my body, beginning at every point where I had touched the shield and working its way inward. I was thrown back and hit the ground hard enough to see stars, a coppery tang in my mouth indicating the presence of blood. Cursing, I attempted to get up again but an invisible yet gentle force held me down.

Twisting my head to the side, I was surprised to see that Rilien had gained consciousness again, and was staring at me intently. Very subtly, he shook his head and stood himself; swaying precariously before he found his footing. Slowly, as if moving through a dream, he cupped his hands and began murmuring in a sing-song language, a ball of light forming between his fingers. Gradually it became larger, shimmering brilliantly 'till it encompassed the entirety of his palms. Just as he had lifted his hands to shout a Command, there was a roar at the Gates and even Morohtar paused, faltering in his concentration as his gaze was drawn to the entryway. A great cloud of boiling viciousness rushed towards the city; towering over the walls with a malicious intensity and the scent of a thousand rotting corpses in its wake. The wind, which had been mild, was suddenly brought to a ravening howl and the blackness eclipsed the sun, descending towards us with a speed that was terrifying. We were plunged into a deathly cold and I shivered as my breath plumed before me in clouds. The guards at the Gate didn't stand a chance, and their bodies flew into the air and off the ramparts, plunging to certain death. The escort of elves had scattered and fanned out among us, firing arrow after arrow into the seemingly impervious mass. Still the Blackness came forward, and when it made contact with Rilien the light in his hands was extinguished as if it had never been. The dark-haired elf was lifted and slammed back into a wall, where he fell and lay crumpled and motionless.

This-if anything-drew a reaction from Morohtar. He shouted something in the dark, guttural language, gesturing wildly. There was a glottal response and the blackness billowed, the stench of decaying flesh growing stronger. Abandoning all pretense of caring about Legolas, Morohtar dropped the spell and launched himself across the space, falling to his knees next to the fallen elf; cupping his face and checking his neck for a pulse. Slowly, Rilien's eyes fluttered open and for a moment, father and son stared at each other. The dark-haired elf lifted a hand and stroked Morohtar's cheek, murmuring something unintelligible. A small, wavering smile crossed the younger man's face and I felt a glimmer of hope. Then, with no pretense whatsoever, the Blackness at the Gate lashed out and Morohtar's head was separated from its body.

I gasped as blood sprayed across the courtyard, splattering my face and clothes. The green-eyed elf's torso swayed for a moment before falling backwards, hitting the ground with a thump. For a moment, Rilien blinked disbelievingly, his hand still hovering where his son's face had been moments before. Then, slowly his expression changed to one of utter grief, and my heart ached as his scream echoed across the courtyard. The boiling darkness had stopped, as if to revel in its accomplishment, but soon its focus turned to Legolas, who had long since descended and was looking on with an expression of utter horror. As slithering tendrils of blackness crept up upon him. I cried out and threw myself in front of him, drawing my sword and holding it in front of me. Rilien had risen, and was staring at Yusraa with an unadulterated expression of hate. He stepped forward and Legolas made to push past me but I held him back.

_"Ai Rilien, U!"_ my husband shouted, but he either did not hear or did not heed him.

The dark-haired elf lifted his hands and a great rumbling came from beneath us, as if the earth itself was trembling in the face of such power. A roar-far louder than anything I had heard yet-came tearing through the courtyard and several observers were flattened against the walls. A great light grew at the center of Rilien's chest and stretched out to twine with Yusraa, curling in on the insidious blackness with an unstoppable force. There was a howl, and the darkness appeared to try to extricate itself, but it was too late. Rilien barked two words and drew a black knife out of his pocket, holding it to his own throat. Legolas was sobbing. With an apologetic glance at both of us, the dark-haired man jerked it across his neck and a spray of black blood spattered onto the flagstones. There was a horrible screech and the darkness contorted, sucking in on itself and combining with Rilien's Light. It in turn was reabsorbed into our friend, who seemed to take forever to fall. When his body hit the ground it burst into flames and I thought I caught the shape of a raven flying upwards; into the steely grey sky. The knife fell to the ground with a clatter.

And then all was silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** This is it for today, if only because you're caught up, and because my goal was to catch this up with the ff.net posts, and i'm there now. expect the finale(s) by the end of the week/within the next few days. As always, thank you for reading!


	50. Novaer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Rilien is put to rest, Gandalf investigates his method of dispatching Yusraa._

We buried Rilien in Rath Dinen….what was left of him to bury in any case. The ceremony itself was small, as I had requested, and only those who had known my Chief Adviser on a first-name basis attended. Ash from the courtyard at the gates was collected in a small urn; and Aragorn and I placed it in a simple but beautiful mausoleum. We all had our words with him, standing in silent mourning over the shadows of a friend. My father and Elrond laid a single blossom of Niphredel down, reminiscent of Rilien's wintry spirit. Faramir and Eowyn brought the honorary Writ of Loyalty, presented to those who died in legal service to Gondor. Aragorn provided a single scrap of paper, and though I pressed him for what it was he would not say, only that Faramir had given it to him, but he no longer thought it of relevance. He also brought a single lock of silver-golden hair that I recognized as Morohtar's. I myself could think of naught to offer for a long time, but when the rest of the attendees except for my husband had cleared away, I went to the Armory and fetched both the dagger Rilien had nearly ended my life with, and the one that had ended his; and nestled them onto the velvet fabric next to the urn. Aragorn gave no comment, but the look in his eyes said he understood. Our friend had gone through a great transformation of change; from Darkness to Redemption in the face of almost impossible odds. My offering was a gesture to his determination, loyalty, and legacy.

Thranduil returned Morohtar's body to the Greenwood, as it was where he had spent a large majority of his life. The King of the Greenwood himself built the cairn that covered him, and it was whispered that the stones were cursed, and all that went before them fell into a dark memory. I had no time for superstitious fables, though I felt desperately sorry for Rilien's son. As determined as he had been to kill me, it was clear that he had wanted his father alive. Blood had won over loyalty in the end, and I could only hope that whatever my dark-haired friend had whispered to Morohtar in their final moments had been heartfelt and conclusive. In some ways, it reminded me of the differences my father and I had had when I was young. I knew how painful it was to think that perhaps the one that bore you neither loved you nor wanted to tolerate you. Aragorn was gentle in explaining that the case between my Chief Advisor and his son was very different, but I still felt some form of sympathetic understanding. It was hard to be different, almost as hard as it was to be consistent and non judgmental.

Gandalf composed a short poem for Rilien and was absent for the funeral, but he had a genuinely good reason. Whatever had been done to Yusraa was of utmost importance, and he wanted to be sure that it wouldn't affect Gondor in a negative way. He spent many an hour standing by the Great Gates with his staff in hand and his eyes closed, murmuring softly to himself as he walked in contemplative circles. It wasn't until a week later that he called us into Sixth Tier to inform us of his discovery. Tucked into an alcove lush with blossoming lilacs, the old wizard gestured for Aragorn and I to sit, puffing contemplatively on his pipe as we did so.

"Rilien used an ancient form of Binding called the _'Black Hand.'"_ he said gruffly.

"And what does that do?" Aragorn asked dryly, leaning back in his seat.

"Essentially, he sacrificed his soul to tether Yusraa's Essence to the earth" Gandalf replied, leaning wearily on his staff. "It's a very dark, very evil form of magic. Wizards never use it, it is Forbidden. The good news is that Yusraa can't act unless the Binding is released."

"What kind of soul sacrifice are we talking about?" I said slowly.

"The kind where one's spirit is forced to roam the earth for eternity" was the grim response. "Rilien will never rest, and his soul will never find its way to Valinor."

"…And how do we release the Binding?"

"By destroying the object that ended his physical life…in this case, the _Ether Blade._ However, the minute it is broken, Yusraa will be free to do as she wishes." He sighed and appeared to gather himself. "I have a proposal for you…if you will hear it."

Both Aragorn and I nodded our assent.

"Your son…Ainion. He has a level of magic that is unprecedented in both human and elven physiology. With the right training, he could become a very great Caster."

"…What are you saying?" I murmured.

"I…would like the opportunity to teach him. To instruct him in the ways of the Maiar."

"Gandalf, forgive me, but no child of ours can become an Istari" Aragorn said quietly.

"Nor should he be told he can be" was the rough response. "No, I believe that Ainion is the Foretold, and with the right tutelage, he could become the one who defeats Yusraa."

Aragorn and I glanced at each other.

"And you would train him here?"

We were met with silence at my query, and my spirits plummeted.

"In order for Ainion to fully comprehend the scope of his abilities, he will need to be instructed in isolation, in a place that is sacred to the Istari."

"You would take him away?!" Aragorn demanded.

Gandalf looked-for once-sorrowful and contrite.

"I would never do so without your permission, you are his parents. But in order to end all of this, I don't see any other way." His gaze swept over our despairing expressions, and he placed a hand on Aragorn's shoulder. "We have tried every other avenue approach, my friends. Rilien has given us an opportunity, and I think we should take it."

"How long…?" I said weakly, unable to finish my sentence.

"No less than seventy years" was the firm but gentle response.

"Ainion is our firstborn" Aragorn said gravely. "In time, he will be King. Will you instruct him regarding the matters of politics and monarchy as well?"

"I will."

Again, my husband and I looked at each other.

"We must discuss this" I said after a long moment of silence. "Thank you for your honesty, Gandalf."

Bushy brows twitched.

"I know this is hard for both of you, but in time I think you will see that it will be the wisest and most beneficial choice you can make."  
____________________________________________________________________________

It was one of the worst feelings in the world, watching Ainion ride off with Gandalf. He wouldn't say where they were going, which I partially understood and partially resented. Aragorn and I had explained it to him as best we could, but he was still too young to comprehend what was going on. As I watched wisps of silvery-blond hair fade into the distance, it took every ounce of willpower I possessed not to break down in hysterical sobs. Aragorn's arm around my waist was possibly the only thing keeping me from collapsing, and he seemed to sense it, for he pulled me even closer. A lone tear escaped to traverse the length of my cheek, and my husband's long-fingered hand swiped it away. Soft lips brushed my temple and I exhaled shakily; letting go of a breath I didn't know I was holding. We stayed long after the company of Nobles who had attended the departure went home; staring out at the horizon with bleak expressions on our faces. I couldn't help but wonder if we had done the right thing-if one person's soul was worth all of this heartbreak…

We didn't have time to think on it, as the invasion of Moria was just around the corner. Suddenly, Aragorn was unaccountably busy; arranging battalions, ferrying supplies and debating with Gloin. I was left to estimate the approximate amount of food a standing army would need for an extended length of time, and I could only count it a blessing that my father readily took over the responsibility of watching over the twins. He too was disheartened by Ainion's departure, but having been sent away for training himself at a very young age, he understood.

"Sometimes, the hardest things we do in life amount to the greatest achievements, _ionneg"_ he murmured.

We were standing in the nursery, watching as a group of servants cleared out Ainion's remaining belongings. I wanted to scream at them and order that everything be replaced, but it was I who had asked it be done in the first place, and it wouldn't do the public any good to think the King's Consort had gone veritably insane.

"Why does it feel like losing a limb?" I murmured, squeezing a large stuffed bear with particular virulence before tossing it to an attendant.

The man in question fell over due to the velocity of my throw, and looked at me with a bemused expression.

"Ai, Legolas; you carried him, birthed him, nursed him and weaned him. Of course it's like losing a limb!" The King of the Woodland Realm kissed my cheek. "You forget that I watched you ride off to Rivendell and didn't see you for a year."

"Yes, well, this is seventy years."

"I know, _henig,_ I know."

Aragorn departed with the army come mid-summer, and I was forced to watch as yet another piece of my heart disappeared into the Beyond. I was left to attend to both his duties and mine, though Faramir did his best to shoulder some of the load. The two of us managed to muck our way through somehow, though I lost many a night of sleep and much time with the twins. When I did have free time, I spent the majority of it with them, though I often went over the numerous letters Aragorn sent to me with a lonely kind of yearning. As we had expected, the death toll was horrendous, even with the dwarves, Gondor, and the elves of the Greenwood working together. The orcs had had a long time to establish themselves in Moria, with generations upon generations of hateful, lurking malice against all species but their own. I'd made Gimli promise to send me letters as well, with regular updates on whether my husband was being reckless or not. He was-reassuringly-adamant that Aragorn had taken no necessary risks, but he too seemed hesitant over saying whether it would be a successful endeavor or not. I hated being left to chew my nails and sift through paperwork, but there wasn't anyone more qualified to do it now that Rilien was dead, and I didn't trust any of my other advisors to do as thorough a job as I would.

News came of the army's first real breakthrough come early winter, and the Captain of the guard wrote that he expected they'd be home come spring. His prediction rang true, and it was with relief that I greeted my husband at the Gates with the first shoots of summer flowers poking their heads through the soil in the sixth tier. By then-due to a very passionate night of lovemaking before Aragorn's departure-I was heavy with our fourth child, and soon after gave birth to a boy, whom we named Faelon. He was fair-haired like his brother, though his eyes were blue and not grey, and his ears were nearly as pointy as mine. Aragorn liked to call him my 'little twin' and my father often had to correct himself as to who he was talking to when they were together. I missed Ainion desperately, though Gandalf occasionally wrote to update us on his progress. The letters never came with any indication of where they had come from, but I was grateful for news just the same. Some might argue that I had a plethora of other children with which to keep my mind and heart occupied, but each child is different, and you value every one in unique and special ways.

Tentatively, our lives fell into a somewhat predictable rhythm. I hired a new Chief Adviser, but we were never close. He was an elderly member of the Agricultural Sect who seemed to understand that he could never fill the 'shoes' that had been left empty so-to-speak. He upheld the policies that Rilien had so deeply grounded in Minas Tirith's system, and we only worked together when necessary. More and more, I found myself turning towards my duties of child-rearing and less to the inner workings of the city's politics. Aragorn seemed to understand, as we had agreed long ago that our children should take precedence before anything else. If I was absent, it was widely acknowledged that I was either nursing, gardening, or teaching. The Council seemed more comfortable with me taking on the role of 'heirmother'; and though I was loathe to cater to their preferences when it came to my duties, I was happier than I had been in a very long time.

Slowly, word from the South begin to pick back up in Yusraa's absence. Tentatively, traders came on Oliphaunts laden with spices and silks to barter at our gates. It was as if the bottom half of the continent had fallen into a deep sleep under the dark pall of the sorceress, and was only now waking to find the world about it changed. Aragorn was more cautious towards the Harad, but it quickly became clear that they meant no harm. Nobody seemed to remember a prominent ruler in Far Harad named N'amaar, and the name Yusraa only brought questioning looks and raised eyebrows. With the added trade, Gondor flourished and grew rich. When the winter months came we were able to share our generous stores with cities and towns who were in need.

Gimli came to visit when circumstance allowed it, and it was usually always towards Midwinter. It seemed that Gror was rather in favor of being snowed in during the Holiday Season, and my old friend grudgingly admitted that he was fond of the festivities as well. He and his family were the first of the several hundred dwarven families who were repopulating Moria. It was long and sometimes boring work, but Gimli insisted it was utterly worth it. Already, the uppermost levels of the city were blazing with torchlight and free of dust. We made sure to promise him we would come and visit, as he insisted it was an experience that we wouldn't want to miss. Aragorn was interested in the intricate dwarven script that lined almost every corridor, and I was eager to see what could be salvaged of what was rumored to be a vast library deep in the recesses of the mine. Dwarven literature was exceedingly rare, especially in written form, and I was sure that Gandalf would want to read every scrap that could be salvaged.

Aragorn's focus upon returning from Moria was to focus on compensating the families who had lost fathers, brothers, uncles, grandson's, cousins, and sons during the invasion. It was grim, often toilsome work, but he made sure to visit every family personally, no matter how far he had to travel. I often went with him, especially if his duties took him outside the Rammas Echor. The rides back were often silent and sorrowful, and there were times when I questioned whether I was doing him any favors by accompanying him. It was the mark of a true King, when the losses of your people affected you so personally. Aragorn grieved when his people were in pain, and I could not fault him for it. A man who loves his subjects is a man of true worth. Even my father's company hadn't been spared any losses, and the causalities were immense. Many of my people had sailed after learning their loved ones had been slain in battle, and my father admitted that the Greenwood felt suddenly empty.

"My people have been leaving these shores for a long time" he murmured, bouncing Vanya in his lap. We were sitting in the nursery, rays of gentle morning sunlight filtering in through the high windows. I was nursing Faelon and had been close to drowsing before my father's comment jerked me into wakefulness. "Long has the Greenwood been a place of refuge for elvenfolk, but now that time is coming to an end." Vanya giggled and yanked on a strand of his hair. He smiled and put her down, watching as she crawled to her sister, who was quietly chewing on a wooden block. "I often wonder if my time to sail has come."

"Surely you want to stay and watch your grandchildren grow up?" I remarked sleepily.

"Legolas, I have been on Middle Earth for a very, very long time" he said gently. "I have seen generation upon generation of elves, and my greatest joy has been watching you grow up and build a family of your own." He smiled tenderly at me, though there was a trace of sadness in his gaze. "You and Estel have a connection deeper than anything I have ever seen in any couple-human or elf- deeper than that of your mother and I. We both know what will happen when he dies." I flinched and ducked my head. _"Ionneg,_ forgive me, but I do not wish to be here to see that."

"I understand" I said quietly.

"I will remain until your next child is born, and a little after. Then I will name you King of the Greenwood, and I shall sail."

"I'm not pregnant yet" I replied dryly. "And I should hope not for a while longer."

He smirked.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that."

So it was that we learned that we were expecting our fifth child, less than half a year after Faelon was born. Predictably, Aragorn was hysterical, and I was less than content. And yet, the world still seemed to turn; and time wiled away the hours like the monster it is. Minas Tirith had become our domain, as it would belong to others long after we had come and gone. My memory is filled with wind whispering over white turrets and evergreen flags humming in the soft breeze. The laughter of my children floats over the gardens, laced with the scent of honeysuckle and lavender. Somewhere, the White Tree blooms in revered silence; stretching ancient branches up towards a taciturn sky. The Mountains are still and ominous, gazing out with white-tipped peaks onto fields laden with gold and green. Arda is a gift, and within that gift Illuvatar. So we learn to live and die, with the finality of eternity on a distant shore…and an endless horizon of white.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
Naergoned Rilien Caunwaithon

An-Mithrandir

_Out of Nan-tethrin I am come.._

_With shadowed steps and haunted eyes_

_Endore shall know my fear…_

_And I am discomfited by the eyes of Man._

_Torn asunder beneath the eves_

_My land is sunk, my heart still grieves_

_Out of the dungeons I am come_

_Healed of heart yet discontent_

_Ungoliant shall know my wrath_

_And I am redeemed in the eyes of Man_

_This soul is spent beneath our sky_

_My spirit's flown…my brethren cry..._  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title Translation:**
> 
>  
> 
> Novaer-Farewell
> 
>  
> 
> **General Translations:**
> 
>  
> 
> hinig-my child
> 
> Naergoned Rilien An-Mithrandir-Lament of Rilien Caunwaithon, by Mithrandir
> 
> Rilien means-Brilliant  
> The English translation would be 'Clarence'.  
> Morohtar means -dark warrior. The English translation would be 'Donovan'
> 
> A/N: This isn't the end, I know it sounds quite final, but not quite :)


	51. As You Are...

They say that with age death becomes something less inevitable and more of an acceptance. In my case, I would say it is a little bit of both. Death seeps in and twines itself around your limbs and settles in the bones, ‘till we come to accept that perhaps our time has come. The body deteriorates, though the mind remains no less sharp, and we think back on the boundless opinions of life we had when we were young. Suddenly, our frivolity seems worthless and wasteful, we think of all the things we could have been doing when we were busy chasing fantasies and dreams. We hold our loved ones unbearably close, hoping that they will somehow accomplish what we did not. People are quicker to aid with a kind of careful reverence, and they are more inclined to listen to what is said. With age comes a wondering respect, and a careful reticence. 

Staring up at the soft rays of sunlight filtering in through the window above our bed, I often wonder if I have left my legacy truly changed. Minas Tirith has been my life for over a hundred years, and still I feel as if there is more I could do to solidify its future. In the rare moments when I’m alone, my mind turns over everything I’ve done in fine detail, pointing out areas where I’ve erred, and countries I should have reached out to while I still had the time. One might argue that a single man can only accomplish so much in his lifetime, but I live with the firm belief that all things are possible with honest motivation and the right vision. My father was a great man, with an even greater vision than my own, but he died before he got to see any of his dreams take root, and my mother passed in despair of the Dunedain. 

Legolas stirs on my left, and I turn to look at him. He lies on his belly, slender, ivory-hued fingers curled against the pillow nestling his head. Golden lashes spill across alabaster cheeks; his lips illuminated by the cascade of morning light across the coverlets…lips that by now I know almost better than my own. Hair the color of sunlight drapes across his back, longer now than it was when we were first wed. They say that elves show no signs of age, but I would beg to differ. As time goes on I find him more prone to daydream, dozing here and there about Minas Tirith with a book in his lap or a notebook and pen by his side. He is often neither here nor there, simply being, often in the gardens with the scents of life and virility about him. Then there are times when I forget he is so much older than me, especially when he gets out of bed with his usual fluidity, and I take more time. He laughs when I point this out to him, as if it is nothing of consequence, but I know that he is worried. 

We make love less, but after such a long time together there is hardly a need for it. I know every inch of his skin, and he mine. Our love is stronger than what defines the physicality of a relationship, reaching into the realms of the metaphysical and on into the spiritual. I feel him as deeply in my soul as I would were I to be deep within his body. Still, there are times when we join together as one in the deep silence of night, when dark has fallen so thoroughly that the only music to our dance is the softness of his gasps and the shuddering ache of release. 

Together, we have sired eight children. All were born within the first fourteen years of my reign, and they are grown now…many wed with children of their own. Six boys and two girls, Miriel and Vanya being our only female counterparts. Vanya married first, to a Haradrim who came from the South every year to sell spices. I was violently against it at first, but Legolas quietly brought me to reason. I could only see the bloody lineage that stretched behind him, but my husband saw their love…and in time I did as well. Vanya has two daughters, though we do not see them often, as she chose to follow her husband into the sands of the South. Miriel has yet to marry, and in truth I do not know if she ever will. She is an adventurous spirit, and her journeys take her far from us, into lands even I have never seen. Once a year she comes back with glorious tales to tell, and all of us listen raptly when she sits down to begin the spinning. Faelon is his father in the flesh. He is quiet, gentle, skilled with the bow, and quick to laughter. Of all of our children, he is the only one who remains in the Tower. Legolas often bewails of this fact, saying he ought to settle down and get married, but he laughs and tells us to wait a while. Often, he is in the gardens with Legolas; they make a striking pair toiling under the heat of the Gondorian sun. After Faelon, we were surprised with the birth of triplets; Nithron, Feredir, and Alyan. They look much like their sisters, with rounded ears, dark hair and bright blue eyes. Much like Miriel, they take to adventuring in places far away, visiting only when the winter months grow too harsh for fanciful wandering. Our youngest is Rilien; with steel-blue eyes, ash-brown hair and knife-sharp ears. If ever there was a child that was the perfect mix of both his parents, it would be Rilien. He married very young, to Thranduil’s former Chief Advisor. Together, they have one child…a little boy named Elessar, and they live in the Greenwood though they visit often.

Ainion returned from his tutelage with Gandalf very much changed, but no less the boy we knew and loved. Immediately, he took to his role as Gondor’s future King with a mastery and grace even I had not managed. He is both wise and nurturing, kind and stern; and I know I can rest easy with him as my successor. He did eventually defeat Yusraa, but I feel that is not my tale to tell. I can only say that Gandalf was right about him being the Chosen One, and though I regret missing his childhood, I am proud to have a son who single-handedly arose to a level of greatness that very few have ever accomplished. Still, there was a price to our victory, and that price was Ainion’s innocence. Not long after Ainion returned, Gandalf disappeared North to the Shire and we did not see him again. He, Thranduil, Elrond, Galadriel, Celeborn and Frodo sailed to the undying lands soon after. 

My age has always been a subject that we manage to avoid, or something that we talk about in jest rather than seriousness. It affects Legolas deeply, as I knew it would. Unlike Arwen, who could have given up her immortality to be with me, he did not have that option. When I first started to get grey in my hair he spent night after night sitting vigil, as if expecting me to drop dead on the spot. Eventually, he seemed to come to an understanding about it, though we did not speak on it. As my limitations grew, it seemed his tolerance and affection grew with me. If I could not make it up the staircase of Ecthelion without resting, he would wait with me, and if I chose not to ride so often because of my joints, we would walk instead. 

Now, as I feel darkness gather at the corners of my eyes, I feel I am the most blessed man in the world. I have lived a long, beautiful life; and met wonderful people along the way. I do not fear death, though maybe I should. Outside, the birds are singing a song to welcome the day, but my days are ending. Legolas stirs next to me, and eyes the color of summer skies rake my face; and a sad sort of understanding blooms across his visage. Slowly, and with great effort, I cup his cheek and he smiles tremulously; leaning into my touch and closing his eyes as if to lose himself in this moment forever. 

“My sun, my moon, my sky, my stars” I murmur. “How I have loved you, Legolas.” There is a moment-as quickly gone as it comes-where my love’s face contorts into an expression of utter agony. His sadness is palpable, desperate, and pleading. “ _Penbain”_ I whisper. “Do not grieve for me.”

Golden hair spills across my shoulder as his arm snakes over my waist, his head buried in the crook of my neck.

“ _Meleth_ , you are my soul” he says in a voice so soft I can hardly hear it.

“Don’t be afraid-” I begin, and then break off with a gasp as my vision recedes into nothingness. I feel Legolas rise over me, his lips peppering my cheeks as something wet falls into my suddenly sightless eyes; his tears, I realize. _“Amin mela lle, Leglas. Leithio nin…meleth.”_

_“U” he gasps,_ grasping my hand. 

“You must” I say gently, squeezing his palm with as much strength as I can muster.

There is a moment of silence between us, and in that moment there are words that don’t need to be said. Years that we have spent are brought to the surface, like laughter and sunlight against rippling water. Our children…our love…our memories are like a flower blooming in a shadowed corner suddenly brought into the sun. There is the dazzling truth of joy, of life, of how we have begun and ended. A smooth, familiar hand trails through my hair, and I feel Legolas’ shaky exhale as he presses his forehead against mine.

_“Losto vae….posto vae…”_ he croons. _“Until tomorrow….meleth….na mae….im.”_

We tumble down into eternity, I think. It’s a brightness that hovers on the edges of our consciousness; drawing closer as we come to our End. There is the acknowledgement of finality…of Illuvatar…of Arda and everything around, above, under, and over it. This…is where I leave you; on the shores of Eternity, gazing behind with a bittersweet smile. In life we love, and yet in death we love even more.

It is not the End.

Rather….a Beginning.


	52. ...I Am

My love is buried and gone.

It seems strange, as I stand here looking at the grey stone of Aragorn’s tomb, that only days before he still walked and talked among us. And yet…I knew this time was coming. I saw it in the way his hair turned from brown to a sophisticated, silvery grey…in the beautiful, reverent lines of age that began to crisscross his face….and in the hesitant, wearied manner of his step. It was hard to acknowledge, at first. My father had warned me, and Elrond had warned me even more so. Death comes for the human; and we must acknowledge it and live with the simple truth that we are to be left behind…for a time. 

All of our children came to the funeral. The babes I carried and birthed, dressed in their finest robes with tears on their cheeks and solemn expressions. And I, held in a place of honor yet wishing to be anywhere else….to be with him. I put on a strong face for Gondor, for my precious city so they could mourn their King as they should. I wanted to howl, to rail at the sky and throw myself over his body when they put him in the earth…but I could not. Instead I gripped Faelon’s hand ‘till he was pale with the pain, struggling to keep myself together as I watched the love of my life be buried in the cold depths of a tomb with no way out. I forced myself to sit next to an empty throne during the memorial feast, staring out on the masses of mourners with a screaming soul and trembling fingers. 

Ainion…bless him. He came and sat with me halfway through the whole affair, leaning his silvery curls against my shoulder like he had when he was a babe. I suppose it’s the only thing that carried me through the evening, stroking my hand through his hair as I drifted in and out of awareness. Miriel and Vanya stood in a corner looking devastated, Vanya with her husband and children and Miriel with copious glasses of wine. Faelon was absent, having chosen to return to the Tower after the burial, and I wished I was unimportant enough to have been able to go with him. Rilien had also neglected to appear after the main part of the service, choosing to return to his temporary rooms in Minas Tirith with his wife and child. Nithron, Feredir, and Alyan stood around a wizened Faramir, talking in soft tones while the old Steward spoke with a visiting Magistrate. Eowyn had passed some years ago, and her departure had left him changed…haunted. Still, he had his son, and he had made it clear that when he died he would succeed him. 

My father had left me the Greenwood when he sailed, but I was not often there. There weren’t many of my people left to govern in any case, and I left most of its care in the hands of the Council. Slowly, it became apparent that the existence of elves was becoming evermore scarce, and my heart ached for the way the world was changing. Gimli wrote occasionally, but his letters were becoming less and less and each one a little more confused than the one before. More often then not, they came accompanied with an apologetic letter from Gror, who explained that his aging father was nearing his Time, and we must excuse his occasional obscurity.

_“Meleth…I wonder if we have done all we can in this life…to ensure that our legacies survive.”_

Though long ago, the memory is crystal clear to me. It was sometime after Rilien had left for the Greenwood with his wife, and we were standing out on the ramparts of the sixth tier. It was late evening, and night had fallen like the softest of blankets…enveloping us in a subservient starlight. Aragorn was leaning on a turret, and the soft rays of the moon danced across his features, throwing his visage into sharp relief. Smiling softly, he turned and cupped my cheek.

_“Legolas, we can only live to the best of our intentions, understanding that our lives are ours and that we govern our choices.”_ He chuckled. _“Haven’t we proven that against impossible odds we can succeed?”_

_"They say you cannot change Fate"_ I murmured, turning my head away. 

A soft breeze whistled over the high and forbidding walls. Somewhere, a bell tolled, like some distant and forgotten memory. Aragorn raised an eyebrow. 

_"Well"_ he whispered, tilting my chin and reuniting our gaze. _"Whoever "they" are...they are wrong."_

The kiss was strong yet sweet, permeating my bones in a luxurious warmth. We made love that night like we hadn’t in years; in a mess of tangled sheets, gasping breaths and stifled groans. It was true…what he said. Despite our own misgivings and despite the criticisms of others, we had flourished. Ainion had struck Yusraa down and reunited Rilien’s soul with the afterlife, and we had lived out a great majority of our lives in peace. No matter how much we might wish to do more, it was really a rather selfish endeavor. We couldn’t conquer the world, and neither of us were going to exist into eternity. The best thing we could do was be grateful for what we had, and what we’d accomplished. 

The ceremony ended near midnight, and by then I wasn’t sure if I could get out of my chair. Ainion helped me to the Royal Suite, but I bid him leave me at the entrance. He did so reluctantly, with many a worried glance over his shoulder. I waited until he had gone before entering to survey the room. I remember that it was filled with reminders of his presence. Since his death, I hadn’t touched anything, preferring to avoid spending any time in our rooms as a way of avoiding my grief. Now, I was faced with the reality of it full force. Aragorn’s sword still hung on the wall in the study, glinting softly in the firelight as if simply waiting for its master to return. There was his pipe resting on the beside table next to a pair of soft riding gloves that I’d given him for an Anniversary. His cape was slung over an armchair next to his desk, and a collection of scattered papers with his signature rested on the desk. Even more prominent was his scent; lingering like a whisper in the corners and permeating the bed…where I sank down in a kind of numb stupor. 

I couldn’t bring myself to weep, I felt that if I did I wouldn’t be able to stop until all the moisture was wrung out of my body. With a kind of detached purpose, I wrenched back the sheets and crawled under the covers, huddling into Aragorn’s usual spot like a man starved for air. Closing my eyes, I fell into a restless sleep; somewhere between unconsciousness and wakefulness. The next day, I woke feeling as if I was a shell of myself. The feeling was similar to when I had thought Aragorn fell in the warg battle on our way to Helm’s Deep. Forcing myself out of bed, I stumbled to the study and wrenched out the papers my father had given me when he had named me King of the Woodland realm. Calling for an attendant, I wrote out a hasty missive and handed the papers away; cautioning him to give it to no one but its intended recipient. Once he had left, I made as surreptitious a way back to Rath Dinen as possible. I was given a few curious and occasionally sympathetic looks, but no one disturbed me. 

The stone underneath my fingers is cold and unyielding…so unlike him. He was quick to listen, swift to understand. A thousand master craftsmen could carve his likeness in the glittering caves, but it would still be lifeless. Even as my limbs grow weak, my fingers curling against rough granite and deathly stone, I can’t appreciate the motionless serenity in the mockup of my husband’s visage. His body lies below; a body I loved more passionately and with more fervor than I could possibly love anything in this life or the next. 

I cannot fault my father for not wanting to see this moment; there is nothing glorious or beautiful about Fading. The soul relinquishes its will and the body follows. Even as I sink to my knees in a darkened crypt, I can only think of seeing him again. Somewhere, a city is waking to face the light of a new day; a city I have given my life and my legacy to. My children are gathered here…and maybe it is fitting. They will not have to return now…not for a while in any case. 

My hand slips from cold…marble fingers and into warm…soft ones. Somewhere, in a land far distant now, the door swings open and Faelon throws himself to the floor beside me, shouting desperately. But here… _here_ grey eyes stare into mine with a warmth that leaves me sobbing with relief. Aragorn is here, he is young and whole and _alive._ I cannot go back. Familiar arms encircle me, draw me close, cradle my head in hands I have loved so long and so well and I can _breathe_ again. 

_“Forever I am here”_ he whispers, and his voice echoes across the wastes of my heart, fluttering free to join his soul in a sky of splendor. _“We are beyond…we are free…As I am…you are…._

_As you are…I am._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Note:** This has been a journey. To some of you, it may seem incomplete, and that might be because it somewhat is. Initially, I had intended to take As You Are, I am through all 100+ years of Aragorn's reign, but I quickly realized that this was a task far too daunting for me to take on...at least for now. In any case, this was always my plan for the end, though it came a little more quickly than I intended. However, I am satisfied with it. I am proud to say this is officially the first fanfic I have followed through to the very end. To those of you who have followed with me from the beginning, thank you. You committed and you stuck with it. I am so incredibly, terribly grateful. You've kept me going through this, even when I felt like I couldn't do it anymore. There were so many times I just wanted to walk away. Legolas and Aragorn's love was so tangible, and there were times when it overwhelmed me. I felt like I was being fraudulent, creating a bond so deep when in life romance just doesn't work that way. I hope I have done our couple, and you as readers, justice. Thank you for reading. I may occasionally do some one-shots, but this has been the bulk of the story. Much love to all of you here.
> 
> -M

**Author's Note:**

>  **Translations:**  
>  "lasta a gar-gul"-listen and have(literal "to hold") knowledge
> 
> Story will switch between Aragorn and Legolas' POV's every three or so chapters.


End file.
